MILL 


The 

Man  of  the  Desert 


BY 

GRACE  LIVINGSTON  HILL 


AUTHOR,OF 

MARCIA  SCHUYLER,   PHOEBE  DEANE, 
DAWN  OF  THE  MORNING,  LO,  MICHAEL.  ETC. 


GROSSET   &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 

Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
FLEMING  H.   REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  North  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


>>./  3 


M> 

\  fli  I  (/ 

Contents 


i. 

PROSPECTING  . 

• 

a 

&                    $ 

THE  MAN 

24 

• 

III. 

THE  DESERT  . 

9 

»                  3 

•      43 

IV. 

THE  QUEST    , 

. 

2                   <j 

.    64 

V. 

THE  TRAIL     . 

• 

*                   & 

.      86 

VI. 

CAMP     .        « 

IOI 

VII. 

116 

VIII. 

RENUNCIATION 

. 

J>                   < 

.     130 

IX. 

"  FOR  REMEMBRANCE  " 

»                     9 

.     148 

X. 

His  MOTHER  . 

. 

*                     • 

;      162 

XL 

REFUGE 

• 

•                     • 

.    180 

XII. 

QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE 

.     197 

XIII. 

THE  CALL  OF  THE 

DESERT     . 

.    218 

XIV. 

HOME     . 

. 

•                     9 

.    232 

XV. 

THE  WAY  OF  THE 

CROSS 

•    253 

XVI. 

THE  LETTER  . 

• 

9                    » 

.    267 

*  vu. 

DEDICATION  . 

• 

*                     • 

.    284 

M57306 


I 

PROSPECTING 


IT  was  morning,  high  and  clear  as  Ari 
zona  counts  weather,  and  around  the 
little  railroad  station  were  gathered  a 
crowd  of  curious  onlookers  ;  seven  Indians, 
three  women   from   near-by   shacks — drawn 
thither  by  the  sight  of  the  great  private  car 
that  the  night  express  had  left  on  a  side 
track — the    usual    number    of    loungers,    a 
swarm  of  children,  besides  the  station  agent 
who  had  come  out  to  watch  proceedings. 

All  the  morning  the  private  car  had  been 
an  object  of  deep  interest  to  those  who  lived 
within  sight,  and  that  was  everybody  on  the 
plateau ;  and  many  and  various  had  been 
the  errands  and  excuses  to  go  to  the  station 
that  perchance  the  occupants  of  that  car 
might  be  seen,  or  a  glimpse  of  the  interior  of 
the  moving  palace ;  but  the  silken  curtains 
had  remained  drawn  until  after  nine  o' clock. 
Within  the  last  half  hour,  however,  a 
change  had  taken  place  in  the  silent  in 
scrutable  car.  The  curtains  had  parted  here 

9 


rl0      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  there,  revealing  dim  flitting  faces,  a  table 
spread  with  a  snowy  cloth  and  flowers  in  a 
vase,  wild  flowers  they  were,  too,  like  those 
that  grew  al)  along  the  track,  just  weeds. 
Strange  that  one  who  could  afford  a  private 
car  cared  for  weeds  in  a  glass  on  their  dining 
table,  but  then  perhaps  they  didn't  know. 

A  fat  cook  with  ebony  skin  and  white 
linen  attire  had  appeared  on  the  rear  plat 
form  beating  eggs,  and  kalf  whisding,  half 
singing : 

"  Be  my  little  baby  Bumble-bee  — 
Buzz  around,  buzz  around " 

He  seemed  in  no  wise  affected  or  embar 
rassed  by  the  natives  who  gradually  en 
circled  the  end  of  the  car,  and  the  audience 
grew. 

They  could  dimly  see  the  table  where  the 
inmates  of  the  car  were — dining  ? — it  couldn't 
be  breakfast  at  that  hour  surely.  They  heard 
the  discussion  about  horses  going  on  amid 
laughter  and  merry  conversation,  and  they 
gathered  that  the  car  was  to  remain  here  for 
the  day  at  least  while  some  of  the  party  went 
off  on  a  horseback  trip.  It  was  nothing  very 
unusual  of  course.  Such  things  occasionally 
occurred  in  that  region,  but  not  often  enough 
to  lose  their  interest.  Besides,  to  watch  the 


PROSPECTING  ii 

tourists  who  chanced  to  stop  in  their  tiny 
settlement  was  the  only  way  for  them  to 
learn  the  fashions. 

Not  that  all  the  watchers  stood  and  stared 
around  the  car.  No,  indeed.  They  made 
their  headquarters  around  the  station  plat 
form  from  whence  they  took  brief  and  com 
prehensive  excursions  down  to  the  freight 
station  and  back,  going  always  on  one  side 
of  the  car  and  returning  by  way  of  the  other. 
Even  the  station  agent  felt  the  importance  of 
the  occasion,  and  stood  around  with  all  the 
self-consciousness  of  an  usher  at  a  grand 
wedding,  considering  himself  master  of  cere 
monies. 

"Sure!  They  come  from  the  East  last 
night.  Limited  dropped  'em  !  Going  down 
to  prospect  some  mine,  I  reckon.  They  or 
dered  horses  an*  a  outfit,  and  Shag  Bunce 
is  goin'  with  'em.  He  got  a  letter  'bout  a 
week  ago  tellin'  what  they  wanted  of  him. 
Yes,  I  knowed  all  about  it.  He  brung  the 
letter  to  me  to  cipher  out  fer  him.  You 
know  Shag  ain't  no  great  at  readin'  ef  he  is 
the  best  judge  of  a  mine  anywheres  about." 

Thus  the  station  agent  explained  in  low 
thrilling  tones  ;  and  even  the  Indians  watched 
and  grunted  their  interest. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  horses  arrived,  fom 


12      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

besides  Shag's,  and  the  rest  of  the  outfit. 
The  onlookers  regarded  Shag  with  the 
mournful  interest  due  to  the  undertaker  at  a 
funeral.  Shag  felt  it  and  acted  accordingly, 
He  gave  short,  gruff  orders  to  his  men; 
called  attention  to  straps  and  buckles  that 
every  one  knew  were  in  as  perfect  order  as 
they  could  be  ;  criticized  the  horses  and  his 
men  ;  and  every  one,  even  the  horses,  bore  it 
with  perfect  composure.  They  were  all 
showing  off  and  felt  the  importance  of  the 
moment. 

Presently  the  car  door  opened  and  Mr. 
Radcliffe  came  out  on  the  platform  accom 
panied  by  his  son — a  handsome  reckless 
looking  fellow — his  daughter  Hazel,  and  Mr, 
Hamar,  a  thick-set,  heavy-featured  man  with 
dark  hair,  jaunty  black  moustache  and  hand 
some  black  eyes.  In  the  background  stood 
an  erect  elderly  woman  in  tailor-made  attire 
and  with  a  severe  expression,  Mr.  Radcliffe's 
elder  sister  who  was  taking  the  trip  with 
them  expecting  to  remain  in  California  with 
her  son  ;  and  behind  her  hovered  Hazel's 
maid.  These  two  were  not  to  be  of  the  rid' 
ing  party,  it  appeared. 

There  was  a  pleasant  stir  while  the  horses 
were  brought  forward  and  the  riders  were 
mounting.  The  spectators  remained  breath- 


PROSPECTING  13 

lessly  unconscious  of  anything  save  the  scene 
being  enacted  before  them.  Their  eyes  lin 
gered  with  special  interest  on  the  girl  of  the 
party. 

Miss  Radcliffe  was  small  and  graceful,  with 
a  head  set  on  her  pretty  shoulders  like  a 
flower  on  its  stem.  Moreover  she  was  fair, 
so  fair  that  she  almost  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the 
men  and  women  accustomed  to  brown  cheeks 
kissed  by  the  sun  and  wind  of  the  plain. 
There  was  a  wild-rose  pink  in  her  cheeks  to 
enhance  the  whiteness,  which  made  it  but  the 
more  dazzling.  She  had  masses  of  golden 
hair  wreathed  round  her  dainty  head  in  a  be 
wilderment  of  waves  and  braids.  She  had 
great  dark  eyes  of  blue  set  off  by  long  curling 
lasjies,  and  delicately  pencilled  dark  brows 
which  gave  the  eyes  a  pansy  softness  and 
made  you  feel  when  she  looked  at  you  that 
she  meant  a  great  deal  more  by  the  look  than 
you  had  at  first  suspected.  They  were  won 
derful,  beautiful  eyes,  and  the  little  company 
of  idlers  at  the  station  were  promptly  be 
witched  by  them.  Moreover  there  was  a 
fantastic  little  dimple  in  her  right  cheek  that 
flashed  into  view  at  the  same  time  with  the 
gleam  of  pearly  teeth  when  she  smiled.  She 
certainly  was  a  picture.  The  station  looked 
its  fill  and  rejoiced  in  her  young  beauty. 


14      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  was  garbed  in  a  dark  green  riding 
habit,  the  same  that  she  wore  when  she  rode 
attended  by  her  groom  in  Central  Park.  It 
made  a  sensation  among  the  onlookers,  as 
did  the  little  riding  cap  of  dark  green  velvet 
and  the  pretty  riding  gloves.  She  sat  her 
pony  well,  daintily,  as  though  she  had 
alighted  briefly,  but  to  their  eyes  strangely, 
and  not  as  the  women  out  there  rode.  On 
the  whole  the  station  saw  little  else  but  the 
girl ;  all  the  others  were  mere  accessories  to 
the  picture. 

They  noticed  indeed  that  the  young  man, 
whose  close  cropped  golden  curls,  and  dark 
lashed  blue  eyes  were  so  like  the  girl's  that 
he  could  be  none  other  than  her  brother,  rode 
beside  the  older  man  who  was  presumably 
the  father ;  and  that  the  dark,  handsome 
stranger  rode  away  beside  the  girl.  Not  a 
man  of  them  but  resented  it.  Not  a  woman 
of  them  but  regretted  it. 

Then  Shag  Bunce,  with  a  parting  word  to 
his  small  but  complete  outfit  that  rode  be 
hind,  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  lifted  his  som 
brero  in  homage  to  the  lady,  and  shot  to  the 
front  of  the  line,  his  shaggy  mane  by  which 
came  his  name  floating  over  his  shoulders. 
Out  into  the  sunshine  of  a  perfect  day  the 
riders  went,  and  the  group  around  the  plat* 


PROSPECTING  15 

form  stood  silently  and  watched  until  they 
were  a  speck  in  the  distance  blurring  with  the 
sunny  plain  and  occasional  ash  and  cotton- 
wood  trees. 

"  I  seen  the  missionary  go  by  early  this 
mornin',"  speculated  the  station  agent  medi 
tatively,  deliberately,  as  though  he  only  had 
a  right  to  break  the  silence.  "  I  wonder  whar 
he  could  'a'  bin  goin'.  He  passed  on  t'other 
side  the  track  er  I'd  'a'  ast  'im.  He  'peared  in 
a  tumble  hurry.  Anybody  sick  over  towards 
the  canyon  way  ?  " 

"  Buck's  papoose  heap  sick !  "  muttered  an 
immobile  Indian,  and  shuffled  off  the  platform 
with  a  stolid  face.  The  women  heaved  a 
sigh  of  disappointment  and  turned  to  go. 
The  show  was  out  and  they  must  return  to 
the  monotony  of  their  lives.  They  wondered 
what  it  would  be  like  to  ride  off  like  that  into 
the  sunshine  with  cheeks  like  roses  and  eyes 
that  saw  nothing  but  pleasure  ahead.  What 
would  a  life  like  that  be  ?  Awed,  specula 
tive,  they  went  back  to  their  sturdy  children 
and  their  ill-kempt  houses,  to  sit  in  the  sun 
on  the  door-steps  and  muse  a  while. 

Into  the  sunshine  rode  Hazel  Radcliffe  well 
content  with  the  world,  herself,  and  her  escort. 

Milton  Hamar  was  good  company.  He 
was  keen  of  wit  and  a  past-master  in  the  del- 


16      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

icate  art  of  flattery.  That  he  was  fabulously 
wealthy  and  popular  in  New  York  society ; 
that  he  was  her  father's  friend  both  socially 
and  financially,  and  had  been  much  of  late  in 
their  home  on  account  of  some  vast  mining 
enterprise  in  which  both  were  interested  ;  and 
that  his  wife  was  said  to  be  uncongenial  and 
always  interested  in  other  men  rather  than 
her  husband,  were  all  facts  that  combined  to 
give  Hazel  a  pleasant,  half-romantic  interest 
in  the  man  by  her  side.  She  had  been  con 
scious  of  a  sense  of  satisfaction  and  pleasant 
anticipation  when  her  father  told  her  that  he 
was  to  be  of  their  party.  His  wit  and  gal 
lantry  would  make  up  for  the  necessity  of 
having  her  Aunt  Maria  along.  Aunt  Maria 
was  always  a  damper  to  anything  she  came 
near.  She  was  the  personification  of  pro 
priety.  She  had  tried  to  make  Hazel  think 
she  must  remain  in  the  car  and  rest  that  day 
instead  of  going  off  on  a  wild  goose  chase 
after  a  mine.  No  lady  did  such  things,  she 
told  her  niece. 

Hazel's  laugh  rang  out  like  the  notes  of  a 
bird  as  the  two  rode  slowly  down  the  trail, 
not  hurrying,  for  there  was  plenty  of  time. 
They  could  meet  the  others  on  their  way  back 
if  they  did  not  get  to  the  mine  so  soon,  and 
the  morning  was  lovely. 


PROSPECTING  17 

Milton  Hamar  could  appreciate  the  beauties 
of  nature  now  and  then.  He  called  attention 
to  the  line  of  hills  in  the  distance,  and  the 
sharp  steep  peak  of  a  mountain  piercing  the 
sunlight.  Then  skillfully  he  led  his  speech 
around  to  his  companion,  and  showed  how 
lovelier  than  the  morning  she  was. 

He  had  been  indulging  in  such  delicate 
flattery  since  they  first  started  from  New 
York,  whenever  the  indefatigable  aunt  left 
them  alone  long  enough,  but  this  morning 
there  was  a  note  of  something  closer  and 
more  intimate  in  his  words ;  a  warmth  of 
tenderness  that  implied  unspeakable  joy  in 
her  beauty,  such  as  he  had  never  dared  to 
use  before.  It  flattered  her  pride  deliciously. 
It  was  beautiful  to  be  young  and  charming 
and  have  a  man  say  such  things  with  a  look 
like  that  in  his  eyes — eyes  that  had  suffered, 
and  appealed  to  her  to  pity.  With  her  young, 
innocent  heart  she  did  pity,  and  was  glad 
she  might  solace  his  sadness  a  little  while. 

With  consummate  skill  the  man  led  her  to 
talk  of  himself,  his  hopes  in  youth,  his  disap 
pointments,  his  bitter  sadness,  his  heart  lone 
liness.  He  suddenly  asked  her  to  call  him 
Milton,  and  the  girl  with  rosy  cheeks  and 
dewy  eyes  declared  shyly  that  she  never 
could,  it  would  seem  so  queer,  but  she  finally 


18      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

compromised  after  much  urging  on  "  Cousin 
Milton." 

"  That  will  do  for  a  while,"  he  succumbed, 
smiling  as  he  looked  at  her  with  impatient 
eyes,  Then  with  growing  intimacy  in  his 
tones  he  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  hers  that 
held  the  bridle,  and  the  horses  both  slackened 
their  gait,  though  they  had  been  far  behind 
the  rest  of  the  party  for  over  an  hour  now. 

"  Listen,  little  girl,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going  to 
open  my  heart  to  you.  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
a  secret." 

Hazel  sat  very  still,  half  alarmed  at  his 
tone,  not  daring  to  withdraw  her  hand,  for 
she  felt  the  occasion  was  momentous  and  she 
must  be  ready  with  her  sympathy  as  any  true 
(riend  would  be.  Her  heart  swelled  with 
pride  that  it  was  to  her  he  came  in  his 
trouble.  Then  she  looked  up  into  the  face 
that  was  bending  over  hers,  and  she  saw  tri 
umph,  not  trouble,  in  his  eyes.  Even  then 
she  did  not  understand. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  trustingly. 

"  Dear  child ! "  said  the  man  of  the  world 
impressively,  "  I  knew  you  would  be  inter- 
ested.  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  I  have  told 
you  of  my  sorrow,  now  I  will  tell  you  of  my 
joy.  It  is  this  :  When  I  return  to  New  York 
I  shall  be  a  free  man.  Everything  is  com- 


PROSPECTING  19 

plete  at  last.  I  have  been  granted  a  divorce 
from  Ellen,  and  there  remain  only  a  few 
technicalities  to  be  attended  to.  Then  we 
shall  be  free  to  go  our  ways  and  do  as  we 
choose." 

"A  divorce!"  gasped  Hazel  appalled 
"  Not  you — divorced  I  " 

"  Yes,"  affirmed  the  happy  man  gaily,  "  I 
knew  you'd  be  surprised.  It's  almost  too 
good  to  be  true,  isn't  it,  after  all  my  trouble 
to  get  Ellen  to  consent  ?  " 

"  But  she — your  wife — where  will  she  go  ? 
What  will  she  do?"  Hazel  looked  up  at 
him  with  troubled  eyes,  half  bewildered  with 
the  thought. 

She  did  not  realize  that  the  horses  had 
stopped  and  that  he  still  held  her  hand  which 
grasped  the  bridle. 

"Oh,  Ellen  will  be  married  at  once,"  he 
answered  flippantly.  "That's  the  reason 
she's  consented  at  last  She's  going  to  marry 
Walling  Stacy,  you  know,  and  from  being 
stubborn  about  it,  she's  quite  in  a  hurry  to 
make  any  arrangement  to  fix  things  up  now." 

"  She's  going  to  be  married  I "  gasped 
Hazel  as  if  she  had  not  heard  of  such  things 
often.  Somehow  it  had  never  come  quite  so 
close  to  her  list  of  friendships  before  and  it 
shocked  her  inexpressibly. 


20      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Yes,  she's  going  to  be  married  at  once, 
so  you  see  there's  no  need  to  think  of  her 
ever  again.  But  why  don't  you  ask  me 
what  I  am  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  said  Hazel  recalling  her  lack 
of  sympathy  at  once.  "  You  startled  me  so. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  You  poor  man 
— what  can  you  do  ?  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  for 
you  ! "  and  the  pansy-eyes  became  suffused 
with  tears. 

"  No  need  to  feel  sorry  for  me,  little  on*,' 
said  the  exultant  voice,  and  he  looked  at  her 
now  with  an  expression  she  had  never  seen 
in  his  face  before.  "  I  shall  be  happy  as  I 
have  never  dreamed  of  before,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  going  to  be  married  too.  I  am  going  to 
marry  some  one  who  loves  me  with  all  her 
heart,  I  am  sure  of  that,  though  she  has 
never  told  me  so.  I  am  going  *o  marry  you, 
little  sweetheart ! "  He  stooped  suddenly 
before  she  could  take  in  the  meaning  of  his 
words,  and  flinging  his  free  arm  about  her 
pressed  his  lips  upon  hers. 

With  a  wild  cry  like  some  terrified  creature 
Hazel  tried  to  draw  herself  away,  and  finding 
herself  held  fast  her  quick  anger  rose  and  she 
lifted  the  hand  which  held  the  whip  and 
blindly  slashed  the  air  about  her ;  her  eyes 
closed,  her  heart  swelling  with  horrc*  and 


PROSPECTING  21 

fear.  A  great  repulsion  for  the  man  whom 
hitherto  she  had  regarded  with  deep  respect 
surged  over  her.  To  get  away  from  him  at 
once  was  her  greatest  desire.  She  lashed  out 
again  with  her  whip,  blindly,  not  seeing  what 
she  struck,  almost  beside  herself  with  wrath 
and  fear. 

Hamar's  horse  reared  and  plunged,  almost 
unseating  his  rider,  and  as  he  struggled  to 
keep  his  seat,  having  necessarily  released  the 
girl  from  his  embrace,  the  second  cut  of  the 
whip  took  him  stingingly  across  the  eyes, 
causing  him  to  cry  out  with  the  pain.  The 
horse  reared  again  and  sent  him  sprawling 
upon  the  ground,  his  hands  to  his  face,  his 
senses  one  blank  of  pain  for  the  moment. 

Hazel,  knowing  only  that  she  was  free, 
followed  an  instinct  of  fear  and  struck  her 
own  pony  on  the  flank,  causing  the  little 
beast  to  turn  sharply  to  right  angles  with 
the  trail  he  had  been  following  and  dart  like 
a  streak  across  the  level  plateau.  Thereafter 
the  girl  had  all  she  could  do  to  keep  her  seat. 

She  had  been  wont  to  enjoy  a  run  in  the 
Park  with  her  groom  at  safe  distance  behind 
her.  She  was  proud  of  her  ability  to  ride, 
and  could  take  fences  as  well  as  her  young 
brother  ;  but  a  run  like  this  across  an  illimit 
able  space,  on  a  creature  of  speed  like  the 


22      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

wind,  goaded  by  fear  and  knowing  the  limi 
tations  of  his  rider,  was  a  different  matter. 
The  swift  flight  took  her  breath  away,  and 
unnerved  her.  She  tried  to  hold  on  to  the 
saddle  with  her  shaking  hands,  for  the  bridle 
was  already  flying  loose  to  the  breeze,  but 
her  hold  seemed  so  slight  that  each  moment 
she  expected  to  find  herself  lying  huddled  on 
the  plain  with  the  pony  far  in  the  distance. 

Her  lips  grew  white  and  cold  ;  her  breath 
came  short  and  painfully ;  her  eyes  were 
strained  with  trying  to  look  ahead  at  the 
constantly  receding  horizon.  Was  there  no 
end  ?  Would  they  never  come  to  a  human 
habitation  *  Would  no  one  ever  come  to 
her  rescue?  How  long  could  a  pony  stand 
a  pace  like  this  ?  And  how  long  could  she 
hope  to  hold  on  to  the  furious  flying  crea 
ture? 

Off  to  the  right  at  last  she  thought  she  saw 
a  building.  It  seemed  hours  they  had  been 
flying  through  space.  In  a  second  they  were 
close  by  it.  It  was  a  cabin,  standing  alone 
upon  the  great  plain  with  sage-brush  in 
patches  about  the  door  and  a  neat  rail  fence 
around  it. 

She  could  see  one  window  at  the  end,  and 
a  tiny  chimney  at  the  back.  Could  it  be 
that  any  one  lived  in  such  a  forlorn  spot  ? 


PROSPECTING  23 

Summoning  all  her  strength  as  they  neared 
the  spot  she  flung  her  voice  out  in  a  wild  ap 
peal  while  the  pony  hurled  on,  but  the  wind 
caught  the  feeble  effort  and  flung  it  away 
into  the  vast  spaces  like  a  little  torn  worth 
less  fragment  of  sound. 

Tears  stung  their  way  into  her  wide  dry 
eyes.  The  last  hairpin  left  its  mooring  and 
slipped  down  to  earth.  The  loosened  golden 
hair  streamed  back  on  the  wind  like  hands 
of  despair  wildly  clutching  for  help,  and  the 
jaunty  green  riding  cap  was  snatched  by  the 
breeze  and  hung  upon  a  sage-bush  not  fifty 
feet  from  the  cabin  gate,  but  the  pony  rushed 
on  with  the  frightened  girl  still  clinging  to 
die  saddle. 


H 

THE  MAN 

ABOUT  noon  of  the  same  day  the  mis* 
sionary  halted  his  horse  on  the  edge 
of  a  great  flat-topped  mesa  and 
looked  away  to  the  clear  blue  mountains  in 
the  distance. 

John  Brownleigh  had  been  in  Arizona  for 
nearly  three  years,  yet  the  wonder  of  the 
desert  had  not  ceased  to  charm  him,  and 
now  as  he  stopped  his  horse  to  rest,  his  eyes 
sought  the  vast  distances  stretched  in  every 
direction,  and  revelled  in  the  splendour  of  the 
scene. 

Those  mountains  at  which  he  was  gazing 
were  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  him, 
and  yet  they  stood  out  clear  and  distinct  in 
the  wonderful  air,  and  seemed  but  a  short 
journey  away. 

Below  him  were  ledges  of  rock  in  marvellous 
colours,  yellow  and  gray,  crimson  and  green 
piled  one  upon  another,  with  the  strange 
light  of  the  noonday  sun  playing  over  them 
and  turning  their  colours  into  a  blaze  of 
glory,  Beyond  was  a  stretch  of  sand,  broken 
24 


THE  MAN  25 

here  and  there  by  sage-brush,  greasewood, 
or  cactus  rearing  its  prickly  spines  gro 
tesquely. 

Off  to  the  left  were  pink  tinted  cliffs  and  a 
little  farther  dark  cone-like  buttes.  On  the 
other  hand  low  brown  and  white  hills 
stretched  away  to  the  wonderful  petrified 
forest,  where  great  tracts  of  fallen  tree  trunks 
and  chips  lay  locked  in  glistening  stone. 

To  the  south  he  could  see  the  familiar 
water-hole,  and  farther  the  entrance  to  the 
canyon,  fringed  with  cedars  and  pines.  The 
grandeur  of  the  scene  impressed  him  anew. 

"  Beautiful,  beautiful ! "  he  murmured,  "  and 
a  grand  God  to  have  it  so  ! "  Then  a  shadow 
of  sadness  passed  over  his  face,  and  he  spoke 
again  aloud  as  had  come  to  be  his  habit  in 
this  vast  loneliness. 

"  I  guess  it  is  worth  it/'  he  said,  "  worth 
all  the  lonely  days  and  discouraging  months 
and  disappointments,  just  to  be  alone  with  a 
wonderful  Father  like  mine  ! " 

He  had  just  come  from  a  three  days'  trip 
in  company  with  another  missionary  whose 
station  was  a  two  days'  journey  by  horseback 
from  his  own,  and  whose  cheery  little  home 
was  presided  over  by  a  sweet-faced  woman, 
come  recently  from  the  East  to  share  his 
fortunes.  The  delicious  dinner  prepared  for 


26      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

her  husband  and  his  guests,  the  air  of  com 
fort  in  the  three-roomed  shack,  the  dainty 
touches  that  showed  a  woman's  hand,  had 
filled  Brownleigh  with  a  noble  envy.  Not 
until  this  visit  had  he  realized  how  very  much 
alone  his  life  was. 

He  was  busy  of  course  from  morning  till 
night,  and  his  enthusiasm  for  his  work  was 
even  greater  than  when  nearly  three  years 
before  he  had  been  sent  out  by  the  Board  to 
minister  to  the  needs  of  the  Indians.  Friends 
he  had  by  the  score.  Wherever  a  white  man 
or  trader  lived  in  the  region  he  was  always 
welcome ;  and  the  Indians  knew  and  loved 
his  coming.  He  had  come  around  this  way 
now  to  visit  an  Indian  hogan  where  the 
shadow  of  death  was  hovering  over  a  little 
Indian  maiden  beloved  of  her  father.  It  had 
been  a  long  way  around  and  the  missionary 
was  weary  with  many  days  in  the  saddle, 
but  he  was  glad  he  had  come.  The  little 
maid  had  smiled  to  see  him,  and  felt  that 
the  dark  valley  of  death  seemed  more  to  her 
now  like  one  of  her  own  flower-lit  canyons 
that  led  out  to  a  brighter,  wider  day,  since 
she  had  heard  the  message  of  life  he  brought 
her. 

But  as  he  looked  afar  over  the  long  way  he 
had  come,  and  thought  of  the  bright  little 


THE  MAN  27 

home  where  he  had  dined  the  day  before,  the 
sadness  still  lingered  in  his  face. 

"  It  would  be  good  to  have  somebody  like 
that,"  he  said,  aloud  again.,  "  somebody  to 
expect  me,  and  be  glad, — but  then" — 
thoughtfully — "  I  suppose  there  are  not 
many  girls  who  are  willing  to  give  up  their 
homes  and  go  out  to  rough  it  as  she  has 
done.  It  is  a  hard  life  for  a  woman — for  that 
kind  of  a  woman ! "  A  pause,  then,  "  And 
I  wouldn't  want  any  other  kind  ! " 

His  eyes  grew  large  with  wistfulness.  It 
was  not  often  thus  that  the  cheery  mission 
ary  stopped  to  think  upon  his  own  lot  in  life. 
His  heart  was  in  his  work,  and  he  could  turn 
his  hand  to  anything.  There  was  always 
plenty  to  be  done.  Yet  to-day  for  some  in 
explicable  reason,  for  the  first  time  since  he 
had  really  got  into  the  work  and  outgrown 
his  first  homesickness,  he  was  hungry  fot 
companionship.  He  had  seen  a  light  in  the 
eyes  of  his  fellow-missionary  that  spoke  elo 
quently  of  the  comfort  and  joy  he  himself 
had  missed  and  it  struck  deep  into  his  heart. 
He  had  stopped  here  on  this  mesa,  with  the 
vast  panorama  of  the  desert  spread  before 
him,  to  have  it  out  with  himself. 

The  horse  breathed  restfully,  drooping  his 
head  and  closing  his  eyes  to  make  the  most 


28      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  the  brief  respite,  and  the  man  sat  thinking, 
trying  to  fill  his  soul  with  the  beauty  of  the 
scene  and  crowd  out  the  longings  that  had 
pressed  upon  him.  Suddenly  he  raised  his 
head  with  a  quiet  upward  motion  and  said 
reverently  : 

"  Oh,  my  Christ,  you  knew  what  this  lone 
liness  was !  You  were  lonely  too  !  It  is  the 
way  you  went,  and  I  will  walk  with  you  I 
That  will  be  good." 

He  sat  for  a  moment  with  uplifted  face 
towards  the  vast  sky,  his  fine  strong  features 
touched  with  a  tender  light,  their  sadness 
changing  into  peace.  Then  with  the  old 
cheery  brightness  coming  into  his  face  again 
he  returned  to  the  earth  and  its  duties. 

"  Billy,  it's  time  we  were  getting  on/'  he 
remarked  to  his  horse  chummily.  "  Do  you 
see  that  sun  in  the  heavens  ?  It'll  get  there 
before  we  do  if  we  don't  look  out,  and  we're 
due  at  the  fort  to-night  if  we  can  possibly 
make  it.  We  had  too  much  vacation,  that's 
about  the  size  of  it,  and  we're  spoiled  !  We're 
lazy,  Billy  1  We'll  have  to  get  down  to 
work.  Now  how  about  it  ?  Can  we  get  to 
that  water-hole  in  half  an  hour  ?  Let's  try 
for  it,  old  fellow,  and  then  we'll  have  a  good 
drink,  and  a  bite  to  eat,  and  maybe  ten  min 
utes  for  a  nap  before  we  take  the  short  trail 


THE  MAN  29 

home.  There's  some  of  the  corn  chop  left  for 
you,  Billy,  so  hustle  up,  old  boy,  and  get 
there." 

Billy,  with  an  answering  snort,  responded 
to  his  master's  words,  and  carefully  picked 
his  way  over  boulders  and  rocks  down  to  the 
valley  below. 

But  within  a  half  mile  of  the  water-hole  the 
young  man  suddenly  halted  his  horse  and 
sprang  from  the  saddle,  stooping  in  the  sand 
beside  a  tall  yucca  to  pick  up  something  that 
gleamed  like  fire  in  the  sunlight.  In  all  that 
brilliant  glowing  landscape  a  bit  of  bright 
ness  had  caught  his  eye  and  insistently  flung 
itself  upon  his  notice  as  worthy  of  investiga 
tion.  There  was  something  about  the  sharp 
light  it  flung  that  spoke  of  another  world 
than  the  desert.  John  Brownleigh  could  not 
pass  it  by.  It  might  be  only  a  bit  of  broken 
glass  from  an  empty  flask  flung  carelessly 
aside,  but  it  did  not  look  like  that.  He  must 
see. 

Wondering  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  a 
bit  of  bright  gold  on  the  handle  of  a  hand 
some  riding  whip.  It  was  not  such  a  whip 
as  people  in  this  region  carried  ;  it  was  dainty, 
costly,  elegant,  a  lady's  riding  whip  !  It 
spoke  of  a  world  of  wealth  and  attention  to 
expensive  details,  as  far  removed  from  this 


30      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

scene  as  possible.  Brownleigh  stood  still  in 
wonder  and  turned  the  pretty  trinket  over  in 
his  hand.  Now  how  did  that  whip  come  to 
be  lying  in  a  bunch  of  sage-brush  on  the 
desert?  Jewelled,  too,  and  that  must  have 
given  the  final  keen  point  of  light  to  the  flame 
which  made  him  stop  short  in  the  sand  to 
pick  it  up.  It  was  a  single  clear  stone  of 
transparent  yellow,  a  topaz  likely,  he  thought, 
but  wonderfully  alive  with  light,  set  in  the 
end  of  the  handle,  and  looking  closely  he  saw 
a  handsome  monogram  engraved  on  the  side, 
and  made  out  the  letters  H.  R.  But  that 
told  him  nothing. 

With  knit  brows  he  pondered,  one  foot  in 
the  stirrup,  the  other  still  upon  the  desert, 
looking  at  the  elegant  toy.  Now  who,  who 
would  be  so  foolish  as  to  bring  a  thing  like 
that  into  the  desert  ?  There  were  no  lady 
riders  anywhere  about  that  he  knew,  save 
the  major's  sister  at  the  military  station,  and 
she  was  most  plain  in  all  her  appointments. 
This  frivolous  implement  of  horsemanship 
never  belonged  to  the  major's  sister.  Tour 
ists  seldom  came  this  way.  What  did  it 
mean  ? 

He  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand  scanned  the  plain,  but 
only  the  warm  shimmer  of  sun-heated  earth 


THE  MAN  3* 

appeared.  Nothing  living  could  be  seen. 
What  ought  he  to  do  about  it  ?  Was  there 
any  way  he  might  find  out  the  owner  and 
restore  the  lost  property  ? 

Pondering  thus,  his  eyes  divided  between 
the  distance  and  the  glittering  whip-handle, 
they  came  to  the  water-hole  ;  and  Brownleigh 
dismounted,  his  thoughts  still  upon  the  little 
whip. 

"  It's  very  strange,  Billy.  I  can't  make  out 
a  theory  that  suits  me,"  he  mused  aloud 
"  If  any  one  has  been  riding  out  this  way  and 
lost  it,  will  they  perhaps  return  and  look  for 
it  ?  Yet  if  I  leave  it  where  I  found  it  the  sand 
might  drift  over  it  at  any  time.  And  surely, 
in  this  sparsely  settled  country,  I  shall  be  able 
to  at  least  hear  of  any  strangers  who  might 
have  carried  such  a  foolish  little  thing. 
Then,  too,  if  I  leave  it  where  I  found  it  some 
one  might  steal  it.  Well,  I  guess  we'll  take 
it  with  us,  Billy  ;  we'll  hear  of  the  owner  some 
where  some  time  no  doubt." 

The  horse  answered  with  a  snort  of  satis« 
faction  as  he  lifted  his  moist  muzzle  from  the 
edge  of  the  water  and  looked  contentedly 
about. 

The  missionary  unstrapped  his  saddle  and 
flung  it  on  the  ground,  unfastening  the  bag 
of  "  corn  chop  "  and  spreading  it  conveniently 


32      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

before  his  dumb  companion.  Then  he  set 
about  gathering  a  few  sticks  from  near  at 
hand  and  started  a  little  blaze.  In  a  few  min 
utes  the  water  was  bubbling  cheerfully  in  his 
title  folding  tin  cup  for  a  cup  of  tea,  and  a 
bit  of  bacon  was  frying  in  a  diminutive  skillet 
beside  it.  Corn  bread  and  tea  and  sugar 
came  from  the  capacious  pockets  of  the  sad 
dle.  Billy  and  his  missionary  made  a  good 
meal  beneath  the  wide  bright  quiet  of  the  sky. 
When  the  corn  chop  was  finished  Billy  let 
his  long  lashes  droop  lower  and  lower,  and 
his  nose  go  down  and  down  until  it  almost 
touched  the  ground,  dreaming  of  more  corn 
chop,  and  happy  in  having  his  wants  sup 
plied.  But  his  master,  stretched  at  full  length 
upon  the  ground  with  hat  drawn  over  his 
eyes,  could  not  lose  himself  in  sleep  for  a 
second.  His  thoughts  were  upon  the  jewelled 
whip,  and  by  and  by  he  reached  his  hand  out 
for  it,  and  shoving  back  his  hat  lay  watching 
the  glinting  of  lights  within  the  precious 
heart  of  the  topaz,  as  the  sun  caught  and 
tangled  its  beams  in  the  sharp  facets  of  the 
cutting.  He  puzzled  his  mind  to  know  how 
the  whip  came  to  be  in  the  desert,  and  what 
was  meant  by  it.  One  reads  life  by  details 
in  that  wide  and  lonely  land.  This  whip 
might  mean  something.  But  what  ? 


THE  MAN  33 

At  last  he  dropped  his  hand  and  sitting  up 
with  his  upward  glance  he  said  aloud : 

"  Father,  if  there's  any  reason  why  I  ought 
to  look  for  the  owner,  guide  me." 

He  spoke  as  if  the  One  he  addressed  were 
always  present  in  his  consciousness,  and  they 
were  on  terms  of  the  closest  intimacy. 

He  sprang  up  then  and  began  putting  the 
things  together,  as  if  the  burden  of  the  re 
sponsibility  were  upon  One  fully  able  to 
bear  it. 

They  were  soon  on  their  way  again,  Billy 
swinging  along  with  the  full  realization  of 
the  nearness  of  home. 

The  way  now  led  towards  hazy  blue  lines 
of  mesas  with  crags  and  ridges  here  and 
there.  Across  the  valley,  looking  like  a 
cloud-shadow,  miles  distant  lay  a  long  black 
streak,  the  line  of  the  gorge  of  the  canyon. 
Its  dim  presence  seemed  to  grow  on  the  mis 
sionary's  thought  as  he  drew  nearer.  He 
had  not  been  to  that  canyon  for  more  than  a 
month.  There  were  a  few  scattered  Indians 
living  with  their  families  here  and  there  in 
corners  where  there  was  a  little  soil.  The 
thought  of  them  drew  him  now.  He  must 
make  out  to  go  to  them  soon.  If  it  were  not 
that  Billy  had  been  so  far  he  would  go  up 
there  this  afternoon.  But  the  horse  needed 


34      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

rest  if  the  man  did  not,  and  there  was  ot 
course  no  real  hurry  about  the  matter.  He 
would  go  perhaps  in  the  morning.  Mean 
time  it  would  be  good  to  get  to  his  own  fire* 
side  once  more  and  attend  to  a  few  letters 
that  should  be  written.  He  was  invited  to 
the  fort  that  night  for  dinner.  There  was  to 
be  some  kind  of  a  frolic,  some  visitors  from 
the  East.  He  had  said  he  would  come  if  he 
reached  home  in  time.  He  probably  would, 
but  the  idea  was  not  attractive  just  now.  He 
would  rather  rest  and  read  and  go  to  sleep 
early.  But  then,  of  course  he  would  go. 
Such  opportunities  were  none  too  frequent  in 
this  lonely  land,  though  in  his  present  mood 
the  gay  doings  at  the  fort  did  not  appeal  to 
him  strongly  ;  besides  it  meant  a  ride  of  ten 
miles  further.  However,  of  course  he  would 
go.  He  fell  to  musing  over  the  whip  again, 
and  in  due  time  he  arrived  at  his  own  home, 
a  little  one-roomed  shanty  with  a  chimney  at 
the  back  and  four  big  windows.  At  the  ex 
treme  end  of  the  fenced  enclosure  about  the 
structure  was  a  little  shed  for  Billy,  and  all 
about  was  the  vast  plain  dotted  with  bushes 
and  weeds,  with  its  panorama  of  mountain 
and  hill,  valley  and  gorge.  It  was  beautiful, 
but  it  was  desolate.  Theie  were  neighbour^ 
a  few,  but  they  lived  at  magnificent  distances 


THE  MAN  35 

"  We  ought  to  have  a  dog,  Billy  !  Why 
don't  we  get  a  dog  to  welcome  us  home  ?  " 
said  Brownleigh,  slapping  the  horse's  neck 
affectionately  as  he  sprang  from  the  saddle ; 
"  but  then  a  dog  would  go  along  with  us, 
wouldn't  he,  so  there'd  be  three  of  us  to  come 
home  instead  of  two,  and  that  wouldn't  do 
any  good.  Chickens  ?  How  would  that  do  ? 
But  the  coyotes  would  steal  them.  I  guess 
we'll  have  to  get  along  with  each  other,  old 
fellow." 

The  horse,  relieved  of  his  saddle,  gave  a 
shake  of  comfort  as  a  man  might  stretch  him 
self  after  a  weary  journey,  and  trotted  into 
his  shed.  Brownleigh  made  him  comfortable 
and  turned  to  go  to  the  house. 

As  he  walked  along  by  the  fence  he  caught 
sight  of  a  small  dark  object  hanging  on  a 
sage-bush  a  short  distance  from  the  front  of 
his  house.  It  seemed  to  move  slightly,  and 
he  stopped  and  watched  it  a  second  thinking 
it  might  be  some  animal  caught  in  the  bush$ 
or  in  hiding,  It  seemed  to  stir  again  as  ob 
jects  watched  intently  often  will,  and  spring 
ing  over  the  rail  fence  Brownleigh  went  to 
investigate.  Nothing  in  that  country  was 
left  to  uncertainty.  Men  liked  to  know  what 
was  about  them. 

As  he  neared  the  bush,  however,  the  object 


36      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

took  on  a  tangible  form  and  colour,  and  com* 
ing  closer  he  picked  it  up  and  turned  it  over 
clumsily  in  his  hand.  A  little  velvet  riding 
cap,  undoubtedly  a  lady's,  with  the  name  of 
a  famous  New  York  costumer  wrought  in  silk 
letters  in  the  lining.  Yes,  there  was  no  ques 
tion  about  its  being  a  lady's  cap,  for  a  long 
gleaming  golden  hair,  with  an  undoubted 
tendency  to  curl,  still  clung  to  the  velvet.  A 
sudden  embarrassment  rilled  him,  as  though 
he  had  been  handling  too  intimately  another's 
property  unawares.  He  raised  his  eyes  and 
shaded  them  with  his  hand  to  look  across  the 
landscape,  if  perchance  the  owner  might  be 
at  hand,  though  even  as  he  did  so  he  felt  a 
conviction  that  the  little  velvet  cap  belonged 
to  the  owner  of  the  whip  which  he  still  held 
in  his  other  hand.  H.  R.  Where  was  H.  R., 
and  who  could  she  be  ? 

For  some  minutes  he  stood  thinking  it  out, 
locating  the  exact  spot  in  his  memory  where 
he  had  found  the  whip.  It  had  not  been  on 
any  regular  trail.  That  was  strange.  He 
stooped  to  see  if  there  were  any  further  evi 
dences  of  passers-by,  but  the  slight  breeze 
had  softly  covered  all  definite  marks.  He 
was  satisfied,  however,  after  examining  the 
ground  about  for  some  distance  either  way, 
that  there  could  have  been  but  one  horse.  He 


THE  MAN  37 

was  wise  in  the  lore  of  the  trail.  By  certain 
little  things  that  he  saw  or  did  not  see  he 
came  to  this  conclusion. 

Just  as  he  was  turning  to  go  back  to  his 
cabin  he  came  to  a  halt  again  with  an  excla 
mation  of  wonder,  for  there  close  at  his  feet, 
half  hidden  under  a  bit  of  sage,  lay  a  small 
shell  comb.  He  stooped  and  picked  it  up  in 
triumph. 

"  I  declare,  I  have  quite  a  collection/1  he 
said  aloud.  "  Are  there  any  more  ?  By  these 
tokens  I  may  be  able  to  find  her  after  all." 
And  he  started  with  a  definite  purpose  and 
searched  the  ground  for  several  rods  ahead, 
then  going  back  and  taking  a  slightly  differ 
ent  direction,  he  searched  again  and  yet 
again,  looking  back  each  time  to  get  his  bear 
ings  from  the  direction  where  he  had  found 
the  whip,  arguing  that  the  horse  must  likely 
have  taken  a  pretty  straight  line  and  gone  at 
a  rapid  pace. 

He  was  rewarded  at  last  by  finding  two 
shell  hairpins,  and  near  them  a  single  hoof 
print,  that,  sheltered  by  a  heavy  growth  of 
sage,  had  escaped  the  obliteration  of  the 
wind.  This  he  knelt  and  studied  carefully, 
taking  in  all  the  details  of  size  and  shape  and 
direction  ;  then,  finding  no  more  hairpins  or 
combs,  he  carefully  put  his  booty  into  his 


38      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

pocket  and  hurried  back  to  the  cabin,  his 
brow  knit  in  deep  thought 

"  Father,  is  this  Thy  leading?  "  He  paused 
at  the  door  and  looked  up.  He  opened  the 
door  and  stepped  within.  The  restfulness  of 
the  place  called  to  him  to  stay. 

There  was  the  wide  fireplace  with  a  fire 
laid  all  ready  for  the  touch  of  a  match  that 
would  bring  the  pleasant  blaze  to  dispel  the 
loneliness  of  the  place.  There  was  the  easy 
chair,  his  one  luxury,  with  its  leather  cushions 
and  reclining  back  ;  his  slippers  on  the  floor 
close  by  ;  the  little  table  with  its  well-trimmed 
student  lamp,  his  college  paper  and  the  one 
magazine  that  kept  him  in  touch  with  the 
world  freshly  arrived  before  he  left  for  his 
recent  trip,  and  still  unopened.  How  they 
called  to  him !  Yet  when  he  laid  the  whip 
upon  the  magazine  the  slanting  ray  of  sun 
that  entered  by  the  door  caught  the  glory  of 
the  topaz  and  sent  it  scintillating,  and  some 
how  the  magazine  lost  its  power  to  hold  him. 

One  by  one  he  laid  his  trophies  down  be 
side  the  whip ;  the  velvet  cap,  the  hairpins 
and  the  little  comb,  and  then  stood  back 
startled  with  the  wonder  of  it  and  looked 
about  his  bachelor  quarters. 

It  was  a  pleasant  spot,  far  lovelier  than  its 
weather-stained  exterior  would  lead  one  to 


THE  MAN  39 

suppose.  A  Navajo  blanket  hung  upon  one 
wall  above  the  bed,  and  another  enwrapped 
and  completely  covered  the  bed  itself,  making 
a  spot  of  colour  in  the  room,  and  giving  an 
air  of  luxury.  Two  quaint  rugs  of  Indian 
workmanship  upon  the  floor,  one  in  front  of 
the  bed,  the  other  before  the  fireplace  where 
one's  feet  would  rest  when  sitting  in  the  big 
chair,  did  much  to  hide  the  discrepancies  of 
the  ugly  floor.  A  rough  set  of  shelves  at  the 
side  of  the  fireplace  handy  to  reach  from  the 
easy  chair  were  filled  with  treasures  of  great 
minds,  the  books  he  loved  well,  ail  he  could 
afford  to  bring  with  him,  a  few  commentaries, 
not  many,  an  encyclopedia,  a  little  biography, 
a  few  classics,  botany,  biology,  astronomy 
and  a  much  worn  Bible.  On  the  wall 
above  was  a  large  card  catalogue  of  Indian 
words ;  and  around  the  room  were  some 
of  his  own  pencil  drawings  of  plants  and 
animals. 

Over  in  the  opposite  end  of  the  room  from 
the  bed  was  a  table  covered  with  white  oil 
cloth  ;  and  on  the  wall  behind,  the  cupboard 
which  held  his  dishes,  and  his  stock  of  pro 
visions.  It  was  a  pleasant  spot  and  well  or 
dered,  for  he  never  liked  to  leave  his  quarters 
in  disarray  lest  some  one  might  enter  during 
his  absence,  or  come  back  with  him.  Be- 


40      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

sides,  it  was  pleasanter  so  to  return  to  it  A 
rough  closet  of  goodly  proportions  held  his 
clothes,  his  trunk,  and  any  other  stores. 

He  stood  and  looked  about  it  now  and 
then  let  his  eyes  travel  back  to  those  small 
feminine  articles  on  the  little  table  beside 
him.  It  gave  him  a  strange  sensation 
What  if  they  belonged  there  ?  What  if  the 
owner  of  them  lived  there,  was  coming  in  in 
a  minute  now  to  meet  him  ?  How  would  it 
seem  ?  What  would  she  be  like  ?  For  just 
an  instant  he  let  himself  dream,  and  reach 
ing  out  touched  the  velvet  of  the  cap,  then 
took  it  in  his  hand  and  smoothed  its  silken 
surface.  A  faint  perfume  of  another  world 
seemed  to  steal  from  its  texture,  and  to  linger 
on  his  hands.  He  drew  a  breath  of  wonder 
and  laid  it  down  ;  then  with  a  start  he  came 
to  himself.  Suppose  she  did  belong,  and 
were  out  somewhere  and  he  did  not  know 
where?  Suppose  something  had  happened 
to  her — the  horse  run  away,  thrown  her  some 
where  perhaps, — or  she  might  have  strayed 
away  from  a  camp  and  lost  her  way — or  been 
frightened  ? 

These  might  be  all  foolish  fantasies  of  a 
weary  brain,  but  the  man  knew  he  could  not 
test  until  he  had  at  least  made  an  attempt  to 
find  out.  He  sank  down  in  the  big  chair  for 


THE  MAN  41 

a  moment  to  think  it  out  and  closed  his  eyes, 
making  swift  plans. 

Billy  must  have  a  chance  to  rest  a  little ;  a 
fagged  horse  could  not  accomplish  much  if 
the  journey  were  far  and  the  need  for  haste. 
He  could  not  go  for  an  hour  yet.  And  there 
would  be  preparations  to  make.  He  mast 
repack  the  saddle-bags  with  feed  for  Billy, 
food  for  himself  and  a  possible  stranger, 
restoratives,  and  a  simple  remedy  or  two  in 
case  of  accident.  These  were  articles  he 
always  took  with  him  on  long  journeys.  He 
considered  taking  his  camping  tent  but  that 
would  mean  the  wagon,  and  they  could  not 
go  so  rapidly  with  that.  He  must  not  load 
Billy  heavily,  after  the  miles  he  had  already 
come.  But  he  could  take  a  bit  of  canvas 
strapped  to  the  saddle,  and  a  small  blanket. 
Of  course  it  might  be  but  a  wild  goose  chase 
after  all — yet  he  could  not  let  his  impres 
sion  go  unheeded. 

Then  there  was  the  fort.  In  case  he  found 
the  lady  and  restored  her  property  in  time 
he  might  be  able  to  reach  the  fort  by  even 
ing,  He  must  take  that  into  consideration 
also. 

With  alacrity  he  arose  and  went  about  his 
preparations,  soon  having  his  small  baggage 
in  \rray.  His  own  toilet  came  next.  A  bath 


42      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  fresh  clothing ;  then,  clean  shaven  and 
ready,  all  but  his  coat,  he  flung  himself  upon 
his  bed  for  ten  minutes  of  absolute  relaxa 
tion,  after  which  he  felt  himself  quite  fit  for 
the  expedition.  Springing  up  he  put  on  coat 
and  hat,  gathered  up  with  reverent  touch  the 
bits  of  things  he  had  found,  locked  his  cabin 
and  went  out  to  Billy,  a  lump  of  sugar  in  his 
hand. 

"  Billy,  old  fellow,  we're  under  orders  to 
march  again,"  he  said  apologetically,  and 
Billy  answered  with  a  neigh  of  pleasure,  sub 
mitting  to  the  saddle  as  though  he  were  quite 
ready  for  anything  required  of  him. 

"  Now,  Father,"  said  the  missionary  with 
his  upward  look,  "  show  us  the  way." 

So,  taking  the  direction  from  the  hoof 
print  in  the  sand,  Billy  and  his  master  sped 
away  once  more  into  the  westering  light  of 
the  desert  towards  the  long  black  shadowed 
entrance  of  the  canyon. 


II! 

THE  DESERT 

HAZEL,  as  she  was  borne  along,  her 
lovely  hair  streaming  in  the  wind 
and  lashing  her  across  the  face  and 
eyes  now  and  again,  breath  coming  pain 
fully,  eyes  smarting,  fingers  aching  in  the 
vise-like  hold  she  was  compelled  to  keep 
upon  the  saddle,  began  to  wonder  just  how 
long  she  could  hold  out.  T  seemed  to  her 
it  was  a  matter  of  minutes  mly  when  she 
must  let  go  and  be  whirled  into  space  while 
the  tempestuous  steed  sped  on  and  left  her. 

Nothing  like  this  motion  had  ever  come 
into  her  experience  before.  She  had  been 
run  away  with  once,  but  that  was  like  a 
cradle  to  this  tornado  of  motion.  She  had 
been  frightened  before,  but  never  like  this. 
The  blood  pounded  in  her  head  and  eyes 
until  it  seemed  it  would  burst  forth,  and  now 
and  again  the  surging  of  it  through  her  ears 
gave  the  sensation  of  drowning,  yet  on  and 
on  she  went.  It  was  horrible  to  have  no 
bridle,  and  nothing  to  say  about  where  she 


44      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

should  go,  no  chance  to  control  her  horse. 
It  was  like  being  on  an  express  train  with 
the  engineer  dead  in  his  cab  and  no  way  to 
get  to  the  brakes.  They  must  stop  some 
time  and  what  then  ?  Death  seemed  in« 
evitable,  and  yet  as  the  mad  rush  continued 
she  almost  wished  it  might  come  and  end  the 
horror  of  this  ride. 

It  seemed  hours  before  she  began  to  realize 
that  the  horse  was  no  longer  going  at  quite 
such  a  breakneck  speed,  or  else  she  was 
growing  accustomed  to  the  motion  and  get 
ting  her  breath,  she  could  not  quite  be  sure 
which.  But  little  by  little  she  perceived  that 
the  mad  flying  had  settled  into  a  long  lope. 
The  pony  evidently  had  no  intention  of  stop 
ping  and  it  was  plain  that  he  had  some  dis 
tinct  place  in  mind  to  which  he  was  going  as 
straight  and  determinedly  as  any  human  be 
ing  ever  laid  out  a  course  and  forged  ahead 
in  it.  There  was  that  about  his  whole  beastly 
contour  that  showed  it  was  perfectly  useless 
to  try  to  deter  him  from  it  or  to  turn  him 
aside. 

When  her  breath  came  less  painfully. 
Hazel  made  a  fitful  little  attempt  to  drop  a 
quiet  word  of  reason  into  his  ear. 

"  Nice  pony,  nice,  good  pony  — —  !  "  she 
soothed,  but  the  wind  caught  her  voice  and 


THE  DESERT  45 

flung  it  aside  as  it  had  flung  her  cap  a  few 
moments  before,  and  the  pony  only  laid  his 
ears  back  and  fled  stolidly  on. 

She  gathered  her  forces  again. 

"Nice  pony!  Whoa,  sirP  she  cried,  a 
little  louder  than  the  last  time  and  trying  to 
make  her  voice  sound  firm  and  commanding. 

But  the  pony  had  no  intention  of  "  whoa- 
ing,"  and  though  she  repeated  the  command 
many  times,  her  voice  growing  each  time 
more  firm  and  normal,  he  only  showed  the 
whites  of  his  eyes  at  her  and  continued  dog 
gedly  on  his  way. 

She  saw  it  was  useless ;  and  the  tears, 
usually  with  her  under  fine  control,  came 
streaming  down  her  white  cheeks. 

"  Pony,  good  horse,  dear  pony,  won't  you 
stop ! "  she  cried  and  her  words  ended  with 
a  sob.  But  still  the  pony  kept  on. 

The  desert  fled  about  her  yet  seemed  to 
grow  no  shorter  ahead,  and  the  dark  line  of 
cloud  mystery,  with  the  towering  mountains- 
beyond,  were  no  nearer  than  when  she  first 
started.  It  seemed  much  like  riding  on  a 
rocking-horse,  one  never  got  anywhere,  only 
no  rocking-horse  flew  at  such  a  speed. 

Yet  she  realized  now  that  the  pace  was 

much  modified  from  what  it  had  been  at  first, 

nd  the  pony's  motion  was  not  hard.     If  she 


46      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  not  been  so  stiff  and  sore  in  every  joint 
and  muscle  with  the  terrible  tension  she  had 
kept  up  the  riding  would  not  have  been  at 
all  bad.  But  she  was  conscious  of  most  ter 
rible  weariness,  a  longing  to  drop  down  on 
the  sand  of  the  desert  and  lest,  not  caring 
whether  she  ever  went  on  again  or  not.  She 
had  never  felt  such  terrible  weariness  in  her 
life. 

She  could  hold  on  now  with  one  hand,  and 
relax  the  muscles  of  the  other  a  little.  She 
tried  with  one  hand  presently  to  do  some 
thing  with  that  sweeping  pennant  of  hair  that 
lashed  her  in  the  face  so  unexpectedly  now 
and  then,  but  could  only  succeed  in  twisting 
it  about  her  neck  and  tucking  the  ends  into 
the  neck  of  her  riding  habit ;  and  from  this 
frail  binding  it  soon  slipped  free  again. 

She  was  conscious  of  the  heat  of  the  sun 
on  her  bare  head,  the  smarting  of  her  eyes. 
The  pain  in  her  chest  was  subsiding,  and 
she  could  breathe  freely  again,  but  her  heart 
felt  tired,  so  tired,  and  she  wanted  to  lie 
down  and  cry.  Would  she  never  get  any 
where  and  be  helped  ? 

How  soon  would  her  father  and  brother 
miss  her  and  come  after  her?  When  she 
dared  she  looked  timidly  behind,  and  then 
again  <nore  lingeringly,  but  there  was  noth* 


THE  DESERT  47 

ing  to  be  seen  but  the  same  awful  stretch  of 
distance  with  mountains  of  bright  colour  in 
the  boundaries  everywhere ;  not  a  living 
thing  but  herself  and  the  pony  to  be  seen.  It 
was  awful.  Somewhere  between  herself  and 
the  mountains  behind  was  the  place  she  haa 
started  from,  but  the  bright  sun  shone 
steadily,  hotly  down  and  shimmered  back 
again  from  the  bright  earth,  and  nothing 
broke  the  awful  repose  of  the  lonely  space. 
It  was  as  if  she  had  suddenly  been  caught  up 
and  flung  out  into  a  world  where  was  no 
other  living  being. 

Why  did  they  not  come  after  her  ?  Surely, 
surely,  pretty  soon  she  would  see  them  com 
ing.  They  would  spur  their  horses  on  when 
they  found  she  had  been  run  away  with. 
Her  father  and  brother  would  not  leave  her 
long  in  this  horrible  plight. 

Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  her  father  and 
brother  had  been  for  some  time  out  of  sight 
ahead  before  she  began  her  race.  They 
would  not  know  she  was  gone,  at  once  ;  but 
of  course  Mr.  Hamar  would  do  somethingc 
He  would  not  leave  her  helpless.  The  habit 
of  years  of  trusting  him  assured  her  of  that. 
For  the  instant  she  had  forgotten  the  cause 
of  her  flight.  Then  suddenly  she  remem 
bered  it  with  sickening  thought  He  who 


48      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  been  to  her  a  brave  fine  hero,  suffering 
daily  through  the  carelessness  of  a  wife  who 
did  not  understand  him,  had  stepped  down 
from  his  pedestal  and  become  the  lowest  of 
ihe  low.  He  had  dared  to  kiss  her !  He 
had  said  he  would  marry  her — he, — a  mar 
ried  man  !  Her  whole  soul  revolted  against 
him  again,  and  now  she  was  glad  she  had 
run  away — glad  the  horse  had  taken  her  so 
far — glad  she  had  shown  him  how  terrible 
the  whole  thing  looked  to  her.  She  was 
even  glad  that  her  father  and  brother  were 
far  away  too,  for  the  present,  until  she 
should  adjust  herself  to  life  once  more. 
How  could  she  have  faced  them  after  what 
happened  ?  How  could  she  ever  live  in  the 
same  world  with  that  man  again, — that  fallen 
hero  ?  How  could  she  ever  have  thought  so 
much  of  him  ?  She  had  almost  worshipped 
him,  and  had  been  so  pleased  when  he  had 
seemed  to  enjoy  her  company,  and  compli 
mented  her  by  telling  her  she  had  whiled 
away  a  weary  hour  for  him  !  And  he?  He 
had  been  meaning — this — all  the  time  !  He 
had  locked  at  her  with  that  thought  in  his 
mind  !  Oh — awful  degradation  ! 

There  was  something  so  revolting  in  the 
memory  of  his  voice  and  face  as  he  had  told 
ber  that  she  closed  her  eyes  and  shuddered 


THE  DESERT  49 

as  she  recalled  it,  and  once  more  the  tears 
went  coursing  down  her  cheeks  and  she 
sobbed  aloud,  piteously,  her  head  bowing 
lower  and  lower  over  the  pony's  neck,  her 
bright  hair  falling  down  about  her  shoulders 
and  beating  against  the  animal's  breast  and 
knees  as  he  ran,  her  stiffened  fingers  clutch 
ing  his  mane  to  keep  her  balance,  her  whole 
weary  little  form  drooping  over  his  neck  in  a 
growing  exhaustion,  her  entire  being  swept  by 
alternate  waves  of  anger,  revulsion  and  fear. 

Perhaps  all  this  had  its  effect  on  the  beast ; 
perhaps  somewhere  in  his  make-up  there  lay 
a  spot,  call  it  instinct  or  what  you  please, 
that  vibrated  in  response  to  the  distress  of 
the  human  creature  he  carried.  Perhaps  the 
fact  that  she  was  in  trouble  drew  his  sym 
pathy,  wicked  little  willful  imp  though  he 
usually  was.  Certain  it  is  that  he  began  to 
slacken  his  pace  decidedly,  until  at  last  he 
was  walking,  and  finally  stopped  short  and 
turned  his  head  about  with  a  troubled  neigh 
as  if  to  ask  her  what  was  the  matter. 

The  sudden  cessation  of  the  motion  almost 
threw  her  from  her  seat ;  and  with  new  fear 
gripping  her  heart  she  clutched  the  pony's 
mane  the  tighter  and  looked  about  hei 
trembling.  She  was  conscious  more  than 
anything  else  of  the  vast  spaces  about  her  in 


50      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

every  direction,  of  the  loneliness  of  the  spot, 
and  her  own  desolate  condition.  She  had 
wanted  the  horse  to  stop  and  let  her  get 
down  to  solid  ground,  and  now  that  he  had 
done  so  and  she  might  dismount  a  great  hor 
ror  filled  her  and  she  dared  not.  But  with 
the  lessening  of  the  need  for  keeping  up  the 
tense  strain  of  nerve  and  muscle,  she  sud 
denly  began  to  feel  that  she  could  not  sit  up 
any  longer,  that  she  must  lie  down,  let  go 
this  awful  strain,  stop  this  uncontrollable 
trembling  which  was  quivering  all  over  her 
oody. 

The  pony,  too,  seemed  wondering,  im 
patient  that  she  did  not  dismount  at  once. 
He  turned  his  nose  towards  her  again  with  a 
questioning  snuff  and  snort,  and  showed  the 
wicked  whites  of  his  eyes  in  wild  perplexity. 
Then  a  panic  seized  her.  What  if  he  should 
start  to  run  again?  She  would  surely  be 
thrown  this  time,  for  her  strength  was  almost 
gone.  She  must  get  down  and  in  some  way 
gain  possession  of  the  bridle.  With  the 
bridle  she  might  perhaps  hope  to  guide  his 
movements,  and  make  further  wild  riding 
impossible. 

Slowly,  painfully,  guardedly,  she  took  her 
Jbot  from  the  stirrup  and  slipped  to  the 
ground.  Her  cramped  feet  refused  to  hold 


THE  DESERT  51 

her  weight  for  the  moment  and  she  tottered 
and  went  into  a  little  heap  on  the  ground. 
The  pony,  feeling  his  duty  for  the  present 
done,  sidled  away  from  her  and  began  crop 
ping  the  grass  hungrily. 

The  girl  sank  down  wearily  at  full  length 
upon  the  ground  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed 
to  her  she  could  never  rise  again.  She  was 
too  weary  to  lift  her  hand  or  to  move  the  foot 
that  was  twisted  under  her  into  a  more  com 
fortable  position,  too  weary  to  even  think, 
Then  suddenly  the  sound  of  the  animal  mov 
ing  steadily  away  from  her  roused  her  to  the 
necessity  of  securing  him.  If  he  should  get 
away  in  this  wide  desolation  she  would  be 
helpless  indeed. 

She  gathered  her  flagging  energy  and  got 
painfully  upon  her  feet.  The  horse  was 
nearly  a  rod  away,  and  moving  slowly, 
steadily,  as  he  ate,  with  now  and  then  a  rest 
less  lifting  of  his  head  to  look  off  into  the 
distance  and  take  a  few  determined  steps 
before  he  stopped  for  another  bite.  That 
horse  had  something  on  his  mind  and  was 
going  straight  towards  it  She  felt  that  he 
cared  little  what  became  of  her.  She  must 
look  out  for  herself.  This  was  something  she 
had  never  had  to  do  before  ;  but  the  instinct 
came  with  the  need 


52      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Slowly,  tremblingly,  feeling  her  weakness* 
she  stole  towards  him,  a  bunch  of  grass  in 
her  hand  she  had  plucked  as  she  came,  hold 
ing  it  obviously  as  she  had  fed  a  lump  of 
sugar  or  an  apple  to  her  finely  groomed  mare 
in  New  York.  But  the  grass  she  held  was 
like  all  the  grass  about  him,  and  the  pony 
had  not  been  raised  a  pet.  He  tossed  his 
nose  energetically  and  scornfully  as  she  drew 
near  and  hastened  on  a  pace  or  two. 

Cautiously  she  came  on  again  talking  to 
him  gently,  pleadingly,  complimentarily : 
"  Nice  good  horsey !  Pretty  pony  so  he 
was  !  "  But  he  only  edged  away  again. 

And  so  they  went  on  for  some  little  way 
until  Hazel  almost  despaired  of  catching  him 
at  all,  and  was  becoming  more  and  more 
aware  of  the  vastness  of  the  universe  about 
her,  and  the  smallness  of  her  own  being. 

At  last,  however,  her  fingers  touched  the 
bridle,  she  felt  the  pony's  quick  jerk,  strained 
every  muscle  to  hold  on,  and  found  she  had 
conquered.  He  was  in  her  hands.  For  how 
long  was  a  question,  for  he  was  strong  enough 
to  walk  away  and  drag  her  by  the  bridle  per 
haps,  and  she  knew  little  about  tricks  of 
management.  Moreover  her  muscles  were 
so  flabby  and  sore  with  the  long  ride  that  she 
was  ill-fitted  to  cope  with  the  wise  and  wicked 


THE  DESERT  53 

little  beast.  She  dreaded  to  get  upon  his 
back  again,  and  doubted  if  she  could  if  she 
tried,  but  it  seemed  the  only  way  to  get  any 
where,  or  to  keep  company  with  the  pony, 
for  she  could  not  hope  to  detain  him  by  mere 
physical  force  if  he  decided  otherwise. 

She  stood  beside  him  for  a  moment,  look 
ing  about  her  over  the  wide  distance. 
Everything  looked  alike,  and  different  from 
anything  she  had  ever  seen  before.  She 
must  certainly  get  on  that  pony's  back,  for 
her  fear  of  the  desert  became  constantly 
greater.  It  was  almost  as  if  it  would  snatch 
her  away  in  a  moment  more  if  she  stayed 
there  longer,  and  carry  her  into  vaster 
realms  of  space  where  her  soul  would  be  lost 
in  infinitude.  She  had  never  been  possessed 
by  any  such  feeling  before  and  it  frightened 
her  unreasoningly. 

Turning  to  the  pony,  she  measured  the 
space  from  the  ground  to  the  queer  saddle 
and  wondered  how  people  mounted  such 
things  without  a  groom.  When  she  had 
mounted  that  morning  it  had  been  Milton 
Hamar's  strong  arm  that  swung  her  into  the 
saddle,  and  his  hand  that  held  her  foot  for 
the  instant  of  her  spring.  The  memory  of  it 
now  sent  a  shudder  of  dislike  over  her  whole 
body.  If  she  had  known ,  he  never  should 


54      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

have  touched  her !  The  blood  mounted  un< 
comfortably  into  her  tired  face,  and  made  hei 
conscious  of  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  of  a 
burning  thirst.  She  must  go  on  and  get  to 
some  water  somewhere.  She  could  not  stand 
this  much  longer. 

Carefully  securing  the  bridle  ever  her  arm 
she  reached  up  and  took  hold  of  the  saddle, 
doubtfully  at  first,  and  then  desperately ; 
tried  to  reach  the  stirrup  with  one  foot,  failed 
and  tried  again  ;  and  then  wildly  struggling, 
jumping,  kicking,  she  vainly  sought  to  climb 
back  to  the  saddle.  But  the  pony  was  not  ac 
customed  to  such  a  demonstration  at  mount 
ing  and  he  strongly  objected.  Tossing  his 
head  he  reared  and  dashed  off,  almost  throw 
ing  the  girl  to  the  ground  and  frightening 
her  terribly. 

Nevertheless  the  desperation  of  her  situa 
tion  gave  her  strength  for  a  fresh  trial,  and 
she  struggled  up  again,  and  almost  gained 
her  seat,  when  the  pony  began  a  series  of 
circles  which  threw  her  down  and  made  her 
dizzy  with  trying  to  keep  up  with  him. 

Thus  they  played  the  desperate  game  for  half 
an  hour  more.  Twice  the  girl  lost  the  bridle 
and  had  to  get  it  again  by  stealthy  wiles,  and 
once  she  was  almost  on  the  point  of  giving 
up,  so  utterly  exhausted  was  she. 


THE  DESERT  55 

But  the  pony  was  thirsty  too,  and  he  must 
have  decided  that  the  quickest  way  to  water 
would  be  to  let  her  mount ;  for  finally  with 
lifted  head  he  stood  stock  still  and  let  her 
struggle  up  his  side  ;  and  at  last,  well-nigh 
falling  from  sheer  weariness,  she  sat  astonished 
that  she  had  accomplished  it.  She  was  ou 
his  back,  and  she  would  never  dare  to  get 
down  again,  she  thought,  until  she  got  some 
where  to  safety.  But  now  the  animal,  his 
courage  renewed  by  the  bite  he  had  taken, 
started  snorting  off  at  a  rapid  pace  once 
more,  very  nearly  upsetting  his  rider  at  the 
start,  and  almost  losing  her  the  bridle  once 
more.  She  sat  trembling,  and  gripping 
bridle  and  saddle  for  some  time,  having 
enough  to  do  to  keep  her  seat  without  trying 
to  direct  her  bearer,  and  then  she  saw  before 
her  a  sudden  descent,  steep  but  not  very  long, 
and  at  its  bottom  a  great  puddle  of  dirty 
water.  The  pony  paused  only  an  instant  on 
the  brink  and  then  began  the  descent.  The 
girl  cried  out  with  fear,  but  managed  to  keep 
her  seat,  and  the  impatient  animal  was  soon 
ankle  deep  in  the  water  drinking  long  and 
blissfully. 

Hazel  sat  looking  in  dismay  about  her. 
The  water-hole  seemed  to  be  entirely  sur 
rounded  by A  steep  banks  like  that  they  had 


56      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

descended,  and  there  was  no  way  out  except 
to  return.  Could  the  horse  climb  up  with 
her  on  his  back  ?  And  could  she  keep  hei 
seat  ?  She  grew  cold  with  fear  at  the  thought, 
for  all  her  riding  experience  had  been  on  the 
level,  and  she  had  become  more  and  more 
conscious  of  her  flagging  strength. 

Besides,  the  growing  thirst  was  becoming 
awful.  Oh,  for  just  one  drop  of  that  water 
that  the  pony  was  enjoying !  Black  and 
dbty  as  it  was  she  felt  she  could  drink  it. 
But  it  was  out  of  her  reach  and  she  dared  not 
get  down.  Suddenly  a  thought  came  to  her. 
She  would  wet  her  handkerchief  and  moisten 
her  lips  with  that.  If  she  stooped  over  quite 
carefully  she  might  be  able  to  let  it  down  far 
enough  to  touch  the  water. 

She  pulled  the  small  bit  of  linen  from  the 
tiny  pocket  of  her  habit  and  the  pony,  as  if 
to  help  her,  waded  into  the  water  farther  un 
til  her  skirt  almost  touched  it.  Now  she 
found  that  by  putting  her  arm  about  the 
pony's  neck  she  could  dip  most  of  her  hand- 
j  kerchief  in  the  water,  and  dirty  as  it  was  it 
was  most  refreshing  to  bathe  her  face  and 
hands  and  wrists  and  moisten  her  lips. 

But  the  pony  when  he  had  his  fill  had  no 
mind  to  tarry,  and  with  a  splash,  a  plunge 
and  a  wallow  that  gave  the  girl  an  unex- 


THE  DESERT  57 

pected  shower  bath,  he  picked  his  way  out  of 
the  hole  and  up  the  rocky  side  of  the  descent, 
while  she  clung  frightened  to  the  saddle  and 
wondered  if  she  could  possibly  hang  on  until 
they  were  up  on  the  mesa  again.  The  dainty 
handkerchief  dropped  in  the  flight  floated 
pitifully  on  the  muddy  water,  another  bit  of 
comfort  left  behind. 

But  when  they  were  up  and  away  again, 
what  with  the  fright,  and  the  fact  that  they 
had  come  out  of  the  hole  on  the  opposite  side 
from  that  which  they  had  entered  it,  the  girl 
had  lost  all  sense  of  direction,  and  every* 
where  stretched  away  one  vast  emptiness 
edged  with  mountains  that  stood  out  clear, 
cold  and  unfriendly. 

The  whole  atmosphere  of  the  earth  seemed 
to  have  changed  while  they  were  down  at  the 
drinking  hole,  for  now  the  shadows  were 
long  and  had  almost  a  menacing  attitude  as 
they  crept  along  or  leaped  sideways  after  the 
travellers.  Hazel  noticed  with  a  startled 
glance  at  the  sky  that  the  sun  was  low  and 
would  soon  be  down.  And  that  of  course 
where  the  sun  hung  like  a  great  burning 
opal  must  be  the  west,  but  that  told  her 
nothing,  for  the  sun  had  been  high  in  tne 
heavens  when  they  had  started,  and  she  had 
taken  no  note  of  direction.  East,  west,  north 


58      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 


or  south  were  all  one  to  her  in  her 
care-free  life  that  she  had  hitherto  led.  She 
tried  to  puzzle  it  out  and  remember  which 
way  they  had  turned  from  the  railroad  but 
grew  more  bewildered,  and  the  brilliant  dis 
play  in  the  west  flamed  alarmingly  as  she 
realized  that  night  was  coming  on  and  she 
was  lost  on  a  great  desert  with  only  a  wild 
tired  little  pony  for  company,  hungry  and 
thirsty  and  weary  beyond  anything  she  had 
ever  dreamed  before. 

They  had  been  going  down  into  a  broad 
valley  for  some  little  time,  which  made  the 
night  seem  even  nearer.  Hazel  would  have 
turned  her  horse  back  and  tried  to  retrace  her 
steps,  but  that  he  would  not,  for  try  as  she 
might,  and  turn  him  as  she  would  he  circled 
about  and  soon  was  in  the  same  course  again, 
so  that  now  the  tired  hands  could  only  hold 
the  reins  stiffly  and  submit  to  be  carried 
where  the  pony  willed.  It  was  quite  evident 
he  had  a  destination  in  view,  and  knew  the 
way  thereto.  Hazel  had  read  of  the  instinct 
,of  animals.  She  began  to  hope  that  he  would 
presently  bring  her  to  a  human  habitation 
where  she  would  find  help  to  get  to  her  father 
once  more. 

But  suddenly  even  the  glory  of  the  dying 
sun  was  lost  as  the  horse  entered  the  dimness 


THE  DESERT  59 

of  the  canyon  opening,  whose  high  walls  of 
red  stone,  rising  solemnly  on  either  hand, 
were  serrated  here  and  there  with  long  trans 
verse  lines  of  grasses  and  tree-ferns  growing 
in  the  crevices,  and  higher  up  appeared  the 
black  openings  of  caves  mysterious  and  fear 
some  in  the  twilight  gloom.  The  way  ahead 
loomed  darkly.  Somewhere  from  out  the 
memories  of  her  childhood  came  a  phrase 
from  the  church-service  to  which  she  had 
never  given  conscious  attention,  but  which 
flashed  vividly  to  mind  now :  "  Though  I 
walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow — the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  !  "  Surely  this  must 
be  it.  She  wished  she  could  remember  the 
rest  of  it.  What  could  it  have  meant  ?  She 
shivered  visibly,  and  looked  about  her  with 
wild  eyes. 

The  cottonwoods  and  oaks  grew  thickly  at 
the  base  of  the  cliffs,  almost  concealing  them 
sometimes,  and  above  the  walls  rose  dark  and 
towering.  The  way  was  rough  and  slippery, 
filled  with  great  boulders  and  rocks,  around 
which  the  pony  picked  his  way  without  re 
gard  to  the  branches  of  trees  that  swept  her 
face  and  caught  in  her  long  hair  as  they 
went  by. 

Vainly  she  strove  to  guide  him  back,  but 
he  turned  only  to  whirl  again,  determinedly, 


60      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Somewhere  in  the  deep  gloom  ahead  he  had 
a  destination  and  no  mere  girl  was  to  deter 
him  from  reaching  it  as  soon  as  possible. 
It  was  plain  to  his  horse-mind  that  his  rider 
did  not  know  what  she  wanted,  and  he  did, 
so  there  were  no  two  ways  about  it.  He 
intended  to  go  back  to  his  old  master  as 
straight  and  as  fast  as  he  could  get  there. 
This  canyon  was  the  shortest  cut  and  through 
this  canyon  he  meant  to  walk  whether  she 
liked  it  or  not. 

Further  and  further  into  the  gloom  they 
penetrated,  and  the  girl,  frenzied  with  fear, 
cried  out  with  the  wild  hope  that  some  one 
might  be  near  and  come  to  her  rescue.  But 
the  gloomy  aisle  of  the  canyon  caught  up  her 
voice  and  echoed  it  far  and  high,  until  it 
came  back  to  her  in  a  volume  of  sepulchral 
sound  that  filled  her  with  a  nameless  dread 
and  made  her  fear  to  open  her  lips  again.  It 
was  as  if  she  had  by  her  cry  awakened  the  evil 
spirit  who  inhabited  the  canyon  and  set  it 
searching  for  the  intruder.  "  Help  1  Help !  " 
How  the  words  rolled  and  returned  upon  her 
trembling  senses  until  she  quaked  and  quiv 
ered  with  their  echoes  ! 

On  went  the  pony  into  the  deepening 
shadows,  and  each  moment  the  darkness 
shut  down  more  impenetrably,  until  the  girl 


THE  DESERT  61 

could  only  close  her  eyes,  lower  her  head  as 
much  as  possible  to  escape  the  branches — 
and  pray. 

Then  suddenly,  from  above  where  the  dis 
tant  sky  gave  a  line  of  light  and  a  single  star 
had  appeared  to  pierce  the  dusk  like  a  great 
jewel  on  a  lady's  gown,  there  arose  a  sound ; 
blood-curdling  and  hideous,  high,  hollow, 
far-echoing,  chilling  her  soul  with  horror  and 
causing  her  heart  to  stand  still  with  fear. 
She  had  heard  it  once  before,  a  night  or  two 
ago,  when  their  train  had  stopped  in  a  wide 
desert  for  water  or  repairs  or  something  and 
the  porter  of  the  car  had  told  her  it  was 
coyotes.  It  had  been  distant  then,  and  weird 
and  interesting  to  think  of  being  so  near  real 
live  wild  animals.  She  had  peered  from  the 
safety  of  her  berth  behind  the  silken  curtains 
and  fancied  she  saw  shadowy  forms  steal 
over  the  plain  under  the  moonlight.  But  it 
was  a  very  different  thing  to  hear  the  sound 
now,  out  alone  among  their  haunts,  with  no 
weapon  and  none  to  protect  her.  The  awful- 
ness  of  her  situation  almost  took  away  her 
senses. 

Still  she  held  to  the  saddle,  weak  and 
trembling,  expecting  every  minute  to  be  her 
last ;  and  the  horrid  howling  of  the  coyotes 
continued. 


62      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Down  below  the  trail  somewhere  she  could 
hear  the  soft  trickling  of  water  with  mad 
dening  distinctness  now  and  then.  Oh,  if 
she  could  but  quench  this  terrible  thirst  $ 
The  pony  was  somewhat  refreshed  with  his 
grass  and  his  drink  of  water,  but  the  girl, 
whose  life  up  to  this  day  had  never  known  a 
want  unsatisfied,  was  faint  with  hunger  and 
burning  with  thirst,  and  this  unaccustomed 
demand  upon  her  strength  was  fast  bringing 
it  to  its  limit. 

The  darkness  in  the  canyon  grew  deeper, 
and  more  stars  clustered  out  overhead  ;  but 
far,  so  very  far  away  !  The  coyotes  seemed 
just  a  shadow  removed  all  about  and  above. 
Her  senses  were  swimming.  She  could  not 
be  sure  just  where  they  were.  The  horse 
slipped  and  stumbled  on  in  the  darkness, 
and  she  forgot  to  try  to  turn  him  from  his 
purpose. 

By  and  by  she  grew  conscious  that  the 
way  was  leading  upward  again.  They  were 
scrambling  over  rough  places,  large  rocks  in 
the  way,  trees  growing  close  to  the  trail,  and 
the  pony  seemed  not  to  be  able  to  avoid 
them,  or  perhaps  he  didn't  care.  The  howl 
ing  of  the  coyotes  was  growing  clearer  every 
minute  but  somehow  her  fear  of  them  was 
deadened,  as  her  fear  of  all  else.  She  was 


THE  DESERT  63 

lying  low  upon  the  pony,  clinging  to  his 
neck,  too  faint  to  cry  out,  too  weak  to  stop 
the  tears  that  slowly  wet  his  mane.  Then 
suddenly  she  was  caught  in  the  embrace  of 
a  low  hanging  branch,  her  hair  tangled  about 
its  roughness.  The  pony  struggled  to  gain 
his  uncertain  footing,  the  branch  held  her 
fast  and  the  pony  scrambled  on,  leaving  his 
helpless  rider  behind  him  in  a  little  huddled 
heap  upon  the  rocky  trail,  swept  from  the 
saddle  by  the  tough  old  branch. 

The  pony  stopped  a  moment  upon  a  bit  of 
shelving  rock  he  had  with  difficulty  gained, 
and  looked  back  with  a  troubled  snort,  but 
the  huddled  heap  in  the  darkness  below  him 
gave  forth  no  sign  of  life,  and  after  another 
snort  and  a  half  neigh  of  warning  the  pony 
turned  and  scrambled  on,  up  and  up  till  he 
gained  the  mesa  above. 

The  late  moon  rose  and  hunted  its  way 
through  the  canyon  till  it  found  the  gold  of 
her  hair  spread  about  on  the  rocky  way,  and 
touched  her  sweet  unconscious  face  with  the 
light  of  cold  beauty  ;  the  coyotes  howled  on 
in  solemn  chorus,  and  still  the  little  figure 
lay  quiet  and  unconscious  of  her  situation. 


THE  QUEST 

JOHN  BROWNLEIGH  reached  the 
water-hole  at  sunset,  and  while  he 
waited  for  his  horse  to  drink  he  medi 
tated  on  what  he  would  do  next.  If  he  in 
tended  to  go  to  the  fort  for  dinner  he  should 
turn  at  once  sharply  to  the  right  and  ride 
hard,  unless  he  was  willing  to  be  late.  The 
lady  at  the  fort  liked  to  have  her  guests  on 
hand  promptly,  he  knew. 

The  sun  was  down.  It  had  left  long 
splashes  of  crimson  and  gold  in  the  west, 
and  their  reflection  was  shimmering  over  the 
muddy  water  below  him  so  that  Billy  looked 
as  if  he  quaffed  the  richest  wine  from  a  golden 
cup,  as  he  satisfied  his  thirst  contentedly. 

But  as  the  missionary  watched  the  painted 
^ater  and  tried  to  decide  his  course,  sud 
denly  his  eye  caught  a  bit  of  white  some 
thing  floating,  half  clinging  to  a  twig  at  the 
edge  of  the  water,  a  bit  of  thin  transparent- 
ness,  with  delicate  lacy  edge.  It  startled  him 
Vn  that  desert  place  much  as  the  jewel  in  its 
64 


THE  QUEST  65 

golden  setting  in  the  sand  had  startled  him 
that  morning. 

With  an  exclamation  of  surprise  he  stooped 
over,  picked  up  the  little  wet  handkerchief 
and  held  it  out — dainty,  white  and  fine,  and 
in  spite  of  its  wet  condition  sending  forth  its 
violet  breath  to  the  senses  of  a  man  who  had 
been  in  the  wilds  of  the  desert  for  three  years. 
It  spoke  of  refinement  and  culture  and  a 
world  he  had  left  behind  him  in  the  East. 

There  was  a  tiny  letter  embroidered  in  the 
corner,  but  already  the  light  was  growing  too 
dim  to  read  it,  and  though  he  held  it  up  and 
looked  through  it  and  felt  the  embroidery 
with  his  finger-tip  he  could  not  be  sure  that 
it  was  either  of  the  letters  that  had  been  en 
graved  on  the  whip. 

Nevertheless,  the  little  white  messenger  de 
termined  his  course.  He  searched  the  edge 
of  the  water-hole  for  hoof  prints  as  well  as 
the  dying  light  would  reveal,  then  mounted 
Billy  with  decision  at  once  and  took  up  his 
quest  where  he  had  almost  abandoned  it. 
He  was  convinced  that  a  lady  was  out  alone 
in  the  desert  somewhere. 

It  was  long  past  midnight  when  Billy  and 
the  missionary  came  upon  the  pony,  high  on 
the  mesa,  grazing.  The  animal  had  evidently 
felt  the  need  for  food  and  rest  before  pro- 


66      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

ceeding  further,  and  was  perhaps  a  little  un 
easy  about  that  huddled  form  in  the  darkness 
he  had  left. 

Billy  and  the  pony  were  soon  hobbled  and 
left  to  feed  together  while  the  missionary,  all 
thought  of  his  own  need  of  rest  forgotten, 
began  a  systematic  search  for  the  missing 
rider.  He  first  carefully  examined  the  pony 
and  saddle.  The  saddle  somehow  reminded 
him  of  Shag  Bunce,  but  the  pony  was  a 
stranger  to  him  ;  neither  could  he  make  out 
the  letter  of  the  brand  in  the  pale  moonlight 
However,  it  might  be  a  new  animal,  just 
purchased  and  not  yet  branded — or  there 
might  be  a  thousand  explanations.  The 
thought  of  Shag  Bunce  reminded  him  of  the 
handsome  private  car  he  had  seen  upon  the 
track  that  morning.  But  even  if  a  party  had 
gone  out  to  ride  how  would  one  of  them  get 
separated?  Surely  no  lady  would  venture 
over  the  desert  alone,  not  a  stranger  at  anj 
rate. 

Still  in  the  silver  and  black  of  the  shadowed 
night  he  searched  on,  and  not  until  the  rosy 
light  of  dawning  began  to  flush  and  grow  in 
the  east  did  he  come  to  stand  at  the  top  of 
the  canyon  where  he  could  look  down  and  see 
the  girl,  her  green  riding  habit  blending 
darkly  with  the  dark  forms  of  the  trees  still 


THE  QUEST  67 

in  shadow,  the  gold  of  her  hair  glinted  with 
the  early  light,  and  her  white,  white  face 
turned  upward. 

He  lost  no  time  in  climbing  down  to  her 
side,  dreading  what  he  might  find.  Was  she 
dead  ?  What  had  happened  to  her  ?  It  was 
a  perilous  spot  where  she  lay,  and  the 
dangers  that  might  have  harmed  her  had 
been  many.  The  sky  grew  pink,  and  tinted 
all  the  clouds  with  rose  as  he  knelt  beside 
the  still  form. 

A  moment  served  to  convince  him  that  she 
was  still  alive  ;  even  in  the  half  darkness  he 
could  see  the  drawn,  weary  look  of  her  face. 
Poor  child!  Poor  little  girl,  lost  on  the 
desert  I  He  was  glad,  glad  he  had  come  to 
find  her. 

He  gathered  her  in  his  strong  arms  and 
bore  her  upward  to  the  light. 

Laying  her  in  a  sheltered  spot  he  quickly 
brought  water,  bathed  her  face  and  forced  a 
stimulant  between  the  white  lips.  He  chafed 
her  cold  little  hands,  blistered  with  the  bridle, 
gave  her  more  stimulant,  and  was  rewarded 
by  seeing  a  faint  colour  steal  into  the  lips 
and  cheeks.  Finally  the  white  lids  fluttered 
open  for  a  second  and  gave  him  a  glimpse 
of  great  dark  eyes  in  which  was  still  mirrored 
the  horror  and  fright  of  the  night. 


68      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT  * 

He  gave  her  another  draught,  and  hastened 
to  prepare  a  more  comfortable  resting  place, 
bringing  the  canvas  from  Billy's  pack,  and 
one  or  two  other  little  articles  that  might 
make  for  comfort,  among  them  a  small  hot 
water  bottle.  When  he  had  her  settled  on 
the  canvas  with  sweet  ferns  and  grass  under 
neath  for  a  pillow  and  his  own  blanket  spread 
over  her  he  set  about  gathering  wood  for  a 
fire,  and  soon  he  had  water  boiling  in  his  tin 
cup,  enough  to  fill  the  rubber  bottle.  When 
he  put  it  in  her  cold  hands  she  opened  her 
eyes  again  wonderingly.  He  smiled  reassur 
ingly  and  she  nestled  down  contentedly  with 
the  comfort  of  the  warmth.  She  was  too 
weary  to  question  or  know  aught  save  that 
relief  from  a  terrible  horror  was  come  at  last. 

The  next  time  he  came  to  her  it  was  with  a 
cup  of  strong  beef  tea  which  he  held  ;o  her 
lips  and  coaxed  her  to  swallow.  When  it  was 
finished  she  lay  back  and  slept  again  with  a 
long  drawn  trembling  sigh  that  was  almost 
like  a  sob,  and  the  heart  of  the  young  man 
was  shaken  to  its  depths  over  the  agony 
through  which  she  must  have  passed.  Poor 
child,  poor  little  child  ! 

He  busied  himself  with  making  their 
temporary  camp  as  comfortable  as  possible, 
and  looking  after  the  needs  of  the  horsey 


THE  QUEST  69 

then  coming  back  to  his  patient  he  stood 
looking  down  at  her  as  she  slept,  wondering 
what  he  ought  to  do  next. 

They  were  a  long  distance  from  any  hu 
man  habitation.  Whatever  made  the  pony 
take  this  lonely  trail  was  a  puzzle.  It  led  to 
a  distant  Indian  settlement,  and  doubtless 
the  animal  was  returning  to  his  former 
master,  but  how  had  it  come  that  the  rider 
had  not  turned  him  back  ? 

Then  he  looked  down  at  the  frail  girl 
asleep  on  the  ground  and  grew  grave  as  he 
thought  of  the  perils  through  which  she  had 
passed  alone  and  unguarded.  The  exquisite 
delicacy  of  her  face  touched  him  as  the  vision 
of  an  angelic  being  might  have  done,  and 
for  an  instant  he  forgot  everything  in  the 
wonder  with  which  her  beauty  filled  him  ;  the 
lovely  outline  of  the  profile  as  it  rested  lightly 
against  her  raised  arm,  the  fineness  and 
length  of  her  wealth  of  hair,  like  spun  gold  in 
the  glint  of  the  sunshine  that  was  just  peering 
over  the  rim  of  the  mountain,  the  clearness 
of  her  skin,  so  white  and  different  from  the 
women  in  that  region,  the  pitiful  droop  of  the 
sweet  lips  showing  utter  exhaustion.  His 
heart  went  out  from  him  with  longing  to  com* 
fort  her,  guard  her,  and  bring  her  back  to 
happiness.  A  strange,  joyful  tenderness  fo* 


70      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

her  filled  him  as  he  looked,  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  draw  his  gaze  from  her  face.  Then 
all  at  once  it  came  over  him  that  she  would 
not  like  a  stranger  thus  to  stand  and  gaze 
upon  her  helplessness,  and  with  quick  rever- 
ence  he  turned  his  eyes  away  towards  the 
sky. 

It  was  a  peculiar  morning,  wonderfully 
beautiful.  The  clouds  were  tinted  pink  al 
most  like  a  sunset  and  lasted  so  for  ovet 
an  hour,  as  if  the  dawn  were  coming  gently 
that  it  might  not  waken  her  who  slept. 

Brownleigh,  with  one  more  glance  to  see  ii 
his  patient  was  comfortable,  went  softly  away 
to  gather  wood,  bring  more  water,  and  make 
various  little  preparations  for  a  breakfast 
later  when  she  should  waken.  In  an  hour  he 
tiptoed  back  to  see  if  all  was  going  well,  and 
stooping  laid  a  practiced  finger  on  the  deli 
cate  wrist  to  note  the  flutter  of  her  pulse. 
He  could  count  it  with  care,  feeble,  as  if  the 
heart  had  been  under  heavy  strain,  but  still 
growing  steadier  on  the  whole.  She  was  do 
ing  well  to  sleep.  It  was  better  than  any 
medicine  he  could  administer. 

Meantime,  he  must  keep  a  sharp  lookout 
for  travellers.  They  were  quite  off  the  trail 
here,  and  the  trail  was  an  old  one  anyway 
and  almost  disused.  There  was  little  iikeli- 


THE  QUEST  71 

hood  of  many  passers.  It  might  be  days  be 
fore  any  one  came  that  way.  There  was  no 
human  habitation  within  call,  and  he  dared 
not  leave  his  charge  to  go  in  search  of  help 
to  carry  her  back  to  civilization  again.  He 
must  just  wait  here  till  she  was  able  to 
travel. 

It  occurred  to  him  to  wonder  where  she  be- 
*onged  and  how  she  came  to  be  thus  alone, 
and  whether  it  was  not  altogether  probable 
that  a  party  of  searchers  might  be  out  soon 
with  some  kind  of  a  conveyance  to  carry  her 
home.  He  must  keep  a  sharp  lookout  and 
signal  any  passing  rider. 

To  this  end  he  moved  away  from  the  sleep 
ing  girl  as  far  as  he  dared  leave  her,  and 
uttered  a  long,  clear  call  occasionally,  but  no 
answer  came. 

He  dared  not  use  his  rifle  for  signalling  lest 
he  run  out  of  ammunition  which  he  might 
need  before  he  got  back  with  his  charge. 
However,  he  felt  it  wise  to  combine  hunting 
with  signalling,  and  when  a  rabbit  hurried 
across  his  path  not  far  away  he  shot  it,  and 
the  sound  echoed  out  in  the  clear  morning, 
but  no  answering  signal  came. 

After  he  had  shot  two  rabbits  and  dressed 
them  ready  for  dinner  when  his  guest  should 
wake,  he  replenished  the  fire,  set  the  rabbits 


72       THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  roasting  on  a  curious  little  device  of  his 
own,  and  lay  down  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  fire.  He  was  weary  beyond  expression 
himself,  but  he  never  thought  of  it  once.  The 
excitement  of  the  occasion  kept  him  up.  He 
lay  still  marvelling  at  the  strangeness  of  his 
position,  and  wondering  what  would  be  re 
vealed  when  the  girl  should  wake.  He  almost 
dreaded  to  have  her  do  so  lest  she  should  not 
be  as  perfect  as  she  looked  asleep.  His  heart 
was  in  a  tumult  of  wonder  over  her,  and  of 
thankfulness  that  he  had  found  her  before 
some  terrible  fate  had  overtaken  her. 

As  he  lay  there  resting,  filled  with  an  ex 
alted  joy,  his  mind  wandered  to  the  longings 
of  the  day  before,  the  little  adobe  home  of  his 
co-labourer  which  he  had  left,  its  homeyness 
and  joy ;  his  own  loneliness  and  longing  for 
companionship.  Then  he  looked  shyly 
towards  the  tree  shade  where  the  glint  of 
golden  hair  and  the  dark  line  of  his  blanket 
were  all  he  could  see  of  the  girl  he  had  found 
in  the  wilderness.  What  if  his  Father  had 
answered  his  prayer  and  sent  her  to  him  I 
What  miracle  of  joy  !  A  thrill  of  tenderness 
passed  through  him  and  he  pressed  his  hands 
over  his  closed  eyes  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy. 

What  foolishness!  Dreams,  of  course! 
He  tried  to  sober  himself  but  he  could  not 


THE  QUEST  73 

keep  from  thinking  how  it  would  seem  to 
have  this  lovely  girl  enthroned  in  his  little 
shack,  ready  to  share  his  joys  and  comfort 
his  sorrows  ;  to  be  beloved  and  guarded  and 
tenderly  cared  for  by  him. 

A  stir  of  the  old  blanket  and  a  softly 
drawn  sigh  brought  this  delicious  reverie  to 
a  close,  and  himself  to  his  feet  flushing  cold 
and  hot  at  thought  of  facing  her  awake. 

She  had  turned  over  towards  him  slightly, 
her  cheeks  flushed  with  sleep.  One  hand 
was  thrown  back  over  her  head,  and  the  sun 
caught  and  flashed  the  sparkle  of  jewels  into 
his  eyes,  great  glory-clear  gems  like  drops  of 
morning  dew  when  the  sun  is  new  upon 
them,  and  the  flash  of  the  jewels  told  him 
once  more  what  he  had  known  before  that 
here  was  a  daughter  of  another  world  than 
his.  They  seemed  to  hurt  him  as  he  looked, 
those  costly  gems,  for  they  pierced  to  his 
heart  and  told  him  they  were  set  on  a  wall 
of  separation  which  might  rise  forever  be 
tween  her  and  himself. 

Then  suddenly  he  came  to  himself  and  was 
the  missionary  again,  with  his  senses  all  on 
the  alert,  and  a  keen  realization  that  it  was 
high  noon  and  his  patient  was  waking  up. 
He  must  have  slept  himself  although  he 
thought  he  had  been  broad  awake  all  the 


74      THE  MAN  OF  THE  OfiSERT 

time.  The  hour  had  come  for  action  aw  ne 
must  put  aside  the  foolish  thoughts  that  had 
crowded  in  when  his  weary  brain  was  unable 
to  cope  with  the  cool  facts  of  life.  Of  course 
all  this  was  stuff  and  nonsense  that  he  had 
been  dreaming.  He  must  do  his  duty  by 
this  needy  one  now. 

Stepping  softly  he  brought  a  cup  of  water 
that  he  had  placed  in  the  shade  to  keep  cool, 
and  stood  beside  the  girl,  speaking  quietly, 
as  though  he  had  been  her  nurse  for  years. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  a  drink  of  water?"  he 
asked. 

The  girl  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up  at 
him  bewildered. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  eagerly,  though  her 
voice  was  very  weak.  "Oh,  yes, — I'm  so 
thirsty. — I  thought  we  never  would  get  any 
where  ! " 

She  let  him  lift  her  head,  and  drank  ea 
gerly,  then  sank  back  exhausted  and  closed 
her  eyes.  He  almost  thought  she  was  going 
to  sleep  again. 

"Wouldn't   you  like  something  to  eat?' 
he  asked.    "  Dinner  is  almost  ready.     Do  you 
think   you   can  sit  up  to  eat  or  would  you 
rather  lie  still  ?  " 

"  Dinner  !  "  she  said  languidly  ;  "  but  1 
thought  it  was  night.  Did  I  dream  it  all,  and 


THE  QUEST  75 

how  did  I  get  here  ?  I  don't  remember  this 
place." 

She  looked  around  curiously  and  then 
closed  her  eyes  as  if  the  effort  were  almost 
too  much. 

"  Oh,  I  feel  so  queer  and  tired,  as  if  I  never 
wanted  to  move  again,"  she  murmured. 

"  Don't  move,"  he  commanded.  "  Wait 
until  you've  had  something  to  eat.  I'll  bring 
it  at  once." 

He  brought  a  cup  of  steaming  hot  beef  ex* 
tract  with  little  broken  bits  of  biscuit  from  a 
small  tin  box  in  the  pack,  and  fed  it  to  her  a 
spoonful  at  a  time. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  asked  as  she  swal 
lowed  the  last  spoonful,  and  opened  her  eyes, 
which  had  been  closed  most  of  the  time,  while 
he  fed  her,  as  if  she  were  too  tired  to  keep 
them  open. 

"  Oh,  I'm  just  the  missionary.  Brown- 
leigh's  my  name.  Now  don't  talk  until 
you've  had  the  rest  of  your  dinner.  I'll  bring 
it  in  a  minute.  I  want  to  make  you  a  cup  oi 
tea,  but  you  see  I  have  to  wash  this  cup  firstc 
The  supply  of  dishes  is  limited."  His  genial 
smile  and  hearty  words  reassured  her  and  she 
smiled  and  submitted. 

"  A  missionary  !  "  she  mused  and  opened 
her  eyes  furtively  to  watch  him  as  he  went 


76      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

about  his  task.  A  missionary !  She  had 
never  seen  a  missionary  before,  to  her  knowl 
edge.  She  had  fancied  them  always  quite  a 
different  species,  plain  old  maids  with  hair 
tightly  drawn  behind  their  ears  and  a  poke 
bonnet  with  little  white  lawn  strings. 

This  was  a  man,  young,  strong,  engaging, 
and  handsome  as  a  fine  piece  of  bronze.  The 
brown  flannel  shirt  he  wore  fitted  easily  over 
well  knit  muscles  and  exactly  matched  the 
brown  of  the  abundant  wavy  hair  in  which  the 
morning  sun  was  setting  glints  of  gold  as  he 
knelt  before  the  fire  and  deftly  completed  his 
cookery.  His  soft  wide-brimmed  felt  hat 
pushed  far  back  on  the  head,  the  corduroy 
trousers,  leather  chaps  and  belt  with  brace  of 
pistols  all  fitted  into  the  picture  and  made  the 
girl  feel  that  she  had  suddenly  left  the  earth 
where  she  had  heretofore  lived  and  been 
dropped  into  an  unknown  land  with  a  strong 
kind  angel  to  look  after  her. 

A  missionary  !  Then  of  course  she  needn't 
be  afraid  of  him.  As  she  studied  his  face  she 
knew  that  she  couldn't  possibly  have  been 
afraid  of  that  face  anyway,  unless,  perhaps, 
she  had  ventured  to  disobey  its  owner's  or 
ders.  He  had  a  strong,  firm  chin,  and  his 
lips  though  kindly  in  their  curve  looked  de- 
sided  as  though  they  were  not  to  be  trifled 


THE  QUEST  77 

with.  On  the  whole  if  this  was  a  missionary 
then  she  must  change  her  ideas  of  mission 
aries  from  this  time  forth. 

She  watched  his  light,  free  movements, 
now  sitting  back  upon  his  heels  to  hold  the 
cup  of  boiling  water  over  the  blaze  by  a 
curiously  contrived  handle,  now  rising  and 
going  to  the  saddle  pack  for  some  needed 
article.  There  was  something  graceful  as 
well  as  powerful  about  his  every  motion.  He 
gave  one  a  sense  of  strength  and  almost  in 
finite  resource.  Then  suddenly  her  imagina 
tion  conjured  there  beside  him  the  man  from 
whom  she  had  fled,  and  in  the  light  of  this 
fine  face  the  other  face  darkened  and  weak 
ened  and  she  had  a  swift  revelation  of  his 
true  character,  and  wondered  that  she  had 
never  known  before.  A  shudder  passed  over 
her,  and  a  gray  pallor  came  into  her  face  at 
the  memory.  She  felt  a  great  distaste  for 
thinking  or  the  necessity  for  even  living  at 
that  moment. 

Then  at  once  he  was  beside  her  with  a  tin 
plate  and  the  cup  of  steaming  tea,  and  began 
to  feed  her,  as  if  she  had  been  a  baby,  roast 
rabbit  and  toasted  corn  bread.  She  ate  un- 
questioningly,  and  drank  her  tea,  finding  all 
delicious  after  her  long  fast,  and  gaining  new 
Strength  with  every  mouthful. 


;8      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  How  did  I  get  here  ? "  she  asked  sud 
denly,  rising  to  one  elbow  and  looking 
around.  "  I  don't  seem  to  remember  a  place 
like  this." 

"  I  found  you  hanging  on  a  bush  in  the 
moonlight,"  he  said  gravely,  "and  brought 
you  here." 

Hazel  lay  back  and  reflected  on  this.  He 
had  brought  her  here.  Then  he  must  have 
carried  her !  Well,  his  arms  looked  strong 
enough  to  lift  a  heavier  person  than  herself — 
but  he  had  brought  her  here ! 

A  faint  colour  stole  into  her  pale  cheeks. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I  suppose 
I  wasn't  just  able  to  come  myself."  There 
was  a  droll  little  pucker  at  the  corner  of  her 
mouth. 

"  Not  exactly,"  he  answered  as  he  gathered 
up  the  dishes. 

"  I  remember  that  crazy  little  steed  of  mine 
began  to  climb  straight  up  the  side  of  a  ter 
rible  wall  in  the  dark,  and  finally  decided  to 
wipe  me  off  with  a  tree.  That  is  the  last  I 
can  recall.  I  felt  myself  slipping  and  couldn't 
hold  on  any  longer.  Then  it  all  got  dark 
and  I  let  go." 

"Where  were  you  going?"  asked  the 
young  man. 

"  Going?     I  wasn't  going  anywhere,"  sacd 


THE  QUEST  79 

the  girl ;  "  the  pony  was  doing  that.  He  was 
running  away,  I  suppose.  He  ran  miles  and 
hours  with  me  and  I  couldn't  stop  him.  I 
lost  hold  on  the  bridle,  you  see,  and  he  had 
ideas  about  what  he  wanted  to  do.  I  was 
almost  frightened  to  death,  and  there  wasn't 
a  soul  in  sight  all  day.  I  never  saw  such  an 
srnpty  place  in  my  life.  It  can't  be  this  is 
still  Arizona,  we  came  so  far." 

"  When  did  you  start  ? "  the  missionary 
questioned  gravely. 

"Why,  this  morning, — that  is — why,  it  must 
have  been  yesterday.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
when.  It  was  Wednesday  morning  about 
eleven  o'clock  that  we  left  the  car  on  horse 
back  to  visit  a  mine  papa  had  heard  about. 
It  seems  about  a  year  since  we  started." 

"  How  many  were  in  your  party  ?  "  asked 
the  young  man. 

"  Just  papa  and  my  brother,  and  Mr. 
Hamar,  a  friend  of  my  father's,"  answered 
the  girl,  her  cheeks  reddening  at  the  memory 
of  the  name. 

"  But  was  there  no  guide,  no  native  with 
you  at  all  ?  "  There  was  anxiety  in  the  young 
man's  tone.  He  had  visions  of  other  lost 
people  who  would  have  to  be  looked  after. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  was  the  man  my  father 
had  written  to,  who  brought  the  horses,  and 


8o      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

two  or  three  men  with  him,  some  of  them  In- 
dians,  I  think.  His  name  was  Bunce,  Mr, 
Bunce.  He  was  a  queer  man  with  a  lot  of 
wild  looking  hair." 

"  Shag  Bunce,"  said  the  missionary 
thoughtfully.  "  But  if  Shag  was  along  I 
cannot  understand  how  you  came  to  get  so 
widely  separated  from  your  party.  He  rides 
the  fastest  horse  in  this  region.  No  pony  of 
his  outfit,  be  he  ever  so  fleet,  could  get  far 
ahead  of  Shag  Bunce.  He  would  have 
caught  you  within  a  few  minutes.  What 
happened  ?  Was  there  an  accident  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  feeling  sure  there 
was  some  mystery  behind  her  wanderings 
that  he  ought  to  unravel  for  the  sake  of  the 
girl  and  her  friends.  Hazel's  cheeks  grew 
rosy. 

"  Why,  nothing  really  happened,"  she  said 
evasively.  "  Mr.  Bunce  was  ahead  with  my 
father.  In  fact  he  was  out  of  sight  when  my 
pony  started  to  run.  I  was  riding  with  Mr. 
Hamar,  and  as  we  didn't  care  anything  about 
the  mine  we  didn't  hurry.  Before  we  realized 
it  the  others  were  far  ahead  over  a  hill  or 
something,  I  forget  what  was  ahead,  only 
they  couldn't  be  seen.  Then  we — I — that  is 
— well,  I  must  have  touched  my  pony  pretty 
hard  with  my  whip  and  he  wheeled  and 


THE  QUEST  81 

started  to  run.  I'm  not  sure  but  I  touched 
Mr.  Hamar's  horse,  too,  and  he  was  behaving 
badly.  I  really  hadn't  time  to  see,  I  don't 
know  what  became  of  Mr.  Hamar.  He  isn't 
much  of  a  horseman.  I  don't  believe  he  had 
ever  ridden  before.  He  may  have  had  some 
trouble  with  his  horse.  Anyway  before  I 
knew  it  I  was  out  of  sight  of  everything  but 
wide  empty  stretches  with  mountains  and 
clouds  at  the  end  everywhere,  and  going  on 
and  on  and  not  getting  any  nearer  to  any* 
thing." 

"  This  Mr.  Hamar  must  have  been  a  fool 
not  to  have  given  an  alarm  to  your  friends 
at  once  if  he  could  do  nothing  himself,"  said 
Brownleigh  sternly.  "  I  cannot  understand 
how  it  could  happen  that  no  one  found  you 
sooner.  It  was  the  merest  chance  that  I 
came  upon  your  whip  and  other  little  things 
and  so  grew  anxious  lest  some  one  was  lost. 
It  is  very  strange  that  no  one  found  you  be 
fore  this.  Your  father  will  have  been  very 


anxious." 


Hazel  sat  up  with  flaming  cheeks  and 
began  to  gather  her  hair  in  a  knot.  A 
sudden  realization  of  her  position  had  come 
upon  her  and  given  her  strength. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  she  stumbled,  trying  to 
explain  without  telling  anything, "  Mr.  Hama/ 


82      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

might  have  thought  I  had  gone  back  to  the 
car,  or  he  might  have  thought  I  would  turn 
back  in  a  few  minutes.  I  do  not  think  he 
would  have  wanted  to  follow  me  just  then. 
I  was — angry  with  him  !  " 

The  young  missionary  looked  at  the 
beautiful  girl  sitting  upright  on  the  canvas 
jie  had  spread  for  her  bed,  trying  vainly  to 
reduce  her  bright  hair  to  something  like 
order,  her  cheeks  glowing,  her  eyes  shining 
now,  half  with  anger,  half  with  embarrass 
ment,  and  for  a  second  he  pitied  the  one 
who  had  incurred  her  wrath.  A  strange  un 
reasoning  anger  towards  the  unknown  man 
took  possession  of  him,  and  his  face  grew 
tender  as  he  watched  the  girl. 

"  That  was  no  excuse  for  letting  you  go 
alone  into  the  perils  of  the  desert,"  he  said 
severely.  "  He  could  not  have  known.  It 
was  impossible  that  he  could  have  under 
stood  or  he  would  have  risked  his  life  to  save 
you  from  what  you  have  been  through.  No 
man  could  do  otherwise  ! " 

Hazel  looked  up,  surprised  at  the  vehe 
mence  of  the  words,  and  again  the  contrast 
between  the  two  men  struck  her  forcibly. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  murmured  looking  off 
towards  the  distant  mountains  thoughtfully, 
"  that  he  isn't  much  of  a  man." 


THE  QUEST  83 

And  somehow  the  young  missionary  was 
relieved  to  hear  her  say  so.  There  was  a 
moment's  embarrassed  silence  and  then 
Brownleigh  began  to  search  in  his  pocket, 
as  he  saw  the  golden  coil  of  hair  beginning 
to  ,slip  loose  from  its  knot  again. 

'"Will  these  help  you  any?"  he  asked 
handing  out  the  comb  and  hairpins  he  had 
found  a  sudden  awkwardness  coming  upon 
him. 

"  Oh,  my  own  comb  ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  And  hairpins  !  Where  did  you  find  them  ? 
Indeed  thsy  will  help,"  and  she  seized  upon 
them  eag«s*ly. 

He  turned  away  embarrassed,  marvelling 
at  the  touch  of  her  fingers  as  she  took  the 
bits  of  sheh  from  his  hand.  No  woman's 
hand  like  that  had  touched  his  own,  even  in 
greeting,  sine*  he  bade  good-bye  to  his  in 
valid  mother  and  came  out  to  these  wilds  to 
do  his  work.  >t  thrilled  him  to  the  very  soul 
and  he  was  minded  of  the  sweet  awe  that 
had  come  upon  him  in  his  own  cabin  as  he 
looked  upon  the  little  articles  of  woman's 
toilet  lying  upon  his  table  as  if  they  were  at 
home.  He  could  not  understand  his  own 
mood.  It  seemed  like  weakness.  He  turned 
aside  and  frowned  at  himself  for  his  foolish 
sentimentality  towards  a  stranger  whom  he 


84      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  found  upon  the  desert.  He  laid  it  to 
the  weariness  of  the  long  journey  and  the 
sleepless  night. 

"  I  found  them  in  the  sand.  They  showed 
me  the  way  to  find  you,"  he  said,  trying 
vainly  to  speak  in  a  commonplace  tone. 
But  somehow  his  voice  seemed  to  take  on 
a  deep  significance.  He  looked  at  her 
shyly,  half  fearing  she  must  feel  it,  and  then 
murmuring  something  about  looking  after 
the  horses  he  hurried  away. 

When  he  came  back  she  had  mastered  the 
rebellious  hair,  and  it  lay  shining  and  beauti 
ful,  braided  and  coiled  about  her  shapely 
head.  She  was  standing  now,  having  shaken 
down  and  smoothed  out  the  rumpled  riding 
habit,  and  had  made  herself  look  quite  fresh 
and  lovely  in  spite  of  the  limited  toilet  con 
veniences. 

He  caught  his  breath  as  he  saw  her.  The 
two  regarded  one  another  intensely  for  just 
an  instant,  each  startlingly  conscious  of  the 
other's  personality,  as  men  and  women  will 
sometimes  get  a  glimpse  beyond  mere  body 
and  sight  the  soul.  Each  was  aware  of  a 
thrilling  pleasure  in  the  presence  of  the  other. 
It  was  something  new  and  wonderful  that 
could  not  be  expressed  nor  even  put  into 
thoughts  as  yet  but  something  none  the  less 


THE  QUEST  85 

real  that  flashed  along  their  consciousness 
like  the  song  of  the  native  bird,  the  scent  of 
the  violet,  the  breath  of  the  morning. 

The  instant  of  soul  recognition  passed  and 
dien  each  recovered  self-possession,  but  it 
was  the  woman  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  feel  very  much  more  respectable,"  she 
laughed  pleasantly.  "  Where  is  my  vicious 
little  horse  ?  Isn't  it  time  we  were  getting 
back?" 

Then  a  cloud  of  anxiety  came  over  the 
brightness  of  the  man's  face. 

"  That  is  what  I  was  coming  to  tell  you," 
he  said  in  a  troubled  tone.  "The  wicked 
little  beast  has  eaten  off  his  hobble  and  fled. 
There  isn't  a  sight  of  him  to  be  seen  far  or 
wide.  He  must  have  cleared  out  while  we 
were  at  dinner,  for  he  was  munching  grass 
peaceably  enough  before  you  woke  up.  It 
was  careless  of  me  not  to  make  him  more 
secure.  The  hobble  was  an  old  one  and 
worn,  but  the  best  I  had.  I  came  back  to 
tell  you  that  I  must  ride  after  him  at  once. 
You  won't  be  afraid  to  stay  alone  for  a  little 
while,  will  you  ?  My  horse  has  had  a  rest 
I  think  I  ought  to  be  able  to  catch  him." 


THE  TRAIL 

BUT  the  look  of  horror  in  the  eyes  ol 
the  girl  stopped  him. 
She  gave  a  quick  frightened  glance 
around  and  then  her  eyes  besought  him.    All 
the  terror  of  the  night  alone  in  the  wideness 
returned   upon   her.     She  heard   again   the 
howl  of  the  coyotes,  and  saw  the  long  dark 
shadows  in  the  canyon.     She  was  white  to  the 
lips  with  the  thought  of  it. 

"Oh,  don't  leave  me  alone!"  she  said 
trying  to  speak  bravely.  "  I  don't  feel  as  if 
I  could  stand  it.  There  are  wild  beasts 
around  " — she  glanced  furtively  behind  her 
as  if  even  now  one  was  slyly  tracking  her — 
"  it  was  awful — awful !  Their  howls  !  And 
it  is  so  alone  here  I — I  never  was  alone  be 
fore!" 

There  was  that  in  her  appealing  helpless* 
ness  that  gave  him  a  wild  desire  to  stoop  and 
fold  her  in  his  arms  and  tell  her  he  would 
never  leave  her  while  she  wanted  him.  The 
colour  came  and  went  in  his  fine  bronzed 
face,  and  his  eyes  grew  tender  with  feeling, 


THE  TRAIL  87 

"  I  won't  leave  you,"  he  said  gently,  "  not 
if  you  feel  that  way,  though  there  is  really  no 
danger  here  in  daytime.  The  wild  creatures 
are  very  shy  and  only  show  themselves  at 
night  But  if  I  do  not  find  your  horse  how 
are  you  to  get  speedily  back  to  your  friends? 
It  is  a  long  distance  you  have  come,  and  you 
could  not  ride  alone." 

Her  face  grew  troubled. 

"  Couldn't  I  walk  ?  "  she  suggested.  "  I'm 
a  good  walker.  I've  walked  five  miles  at 
once  many  a  time." 

"  We  are  at  least  forty  miles  from  the 
railroad,"  he  smiled  back  at  her,  "and  the 
road  is  rough,  over  a  mountain  by  the 
nearest  way.  Your  horse  must  have  been 
determined  indeed  to  take  you  so  far  in  one 
day.  He  is  evidently  a  new  purchase  of 
Shag's  and  bent  on  returning  to  his  native 
heath.  Horses  do  that  sometimes.  It  is 
their  instinct.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  It 
may  be  that  he  has  only  gone  down  in  the 
valley  to  the  water-hole.  There  is  one  not 
far  away,  I  think.  I'll  go  to  the  edge  of  the 
mesa  and  get  a  view.  If  he  is  not  far  away 
you  can  come  with  me  after  him.  Just  sit 
here  and  watch  me.  I'll  not  go  out  of  your 
sight  or  hearing,  and  I'll  not  be  gone  five 
minutes.  You'll  not  be  afraid  ?" 


88      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  sat  down  obediently  where  he  bade 
her,  her  eyes  large  with  fear,  for  she  dreaded 
the  loneliness  of  the  desert  more  than  any 
fear  that  had  ever  visited  her  before. 

"  I  promise  I'll  not  go  beyond  your  sight 
and  call,"  he  reassured  her  and  with  a  smile 
turned  towards  his  own  horse,  and  swinging 
himself  into  the  saddle  galloped  rapidly  away 
to  the  edge  of  the  mesa. 

She  watched  him  riding  away,  her  fears 
almost  forgotten  in  her  admiration  of  him, 
her  heart  beating  strangely  with  the  memory 
of  his  smile.  The  protection  of  it  seemed  to 
linger  behind  him,  and  quiet  her  anxiety. 

He  rode  straight  to  the  east,  and  then 
more  slowly  turned  and  skirted  the  horizon, 
riding  north  along  the  edge  of  the  mesa. 
She  saw  him  shade  his  eyes  with  his  hand 
and  look  away  in  all  directions.  At  last  after 
a  prolonged  gaze  straight  north  he  wheeled 
his  horse  and  came  quickly  back  to  her. 

His  face  was  grave  as  he  dismounted. 

"  I've  sighted  him,"  he  said,  "  but  it's  no 
'use.  He  has  three  or  four  miles  start,  and  a 
steep  hill  climbed.  When  he  reaches  the 
top  of  the  next  mesa  he  has  a  straight  course 
before  him,  and  probably  down-hill  after 
that.  It  might  take  me  three  or  four  hours 
to  catch  him  and  it's  a  question  if  I  could  do 


THE  TRAIL  89 

It  then.  We'll  have  to  dismiss  him  from  our 
arrangements  and  get  along  with  Billy.  Do 
you  feel  equal  to  riding  now  ?  Or  ought  you 
to  rest  again  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  can  ride,  but — I  cannot  take  your 
horse.  What  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall  do  nicely,"  he  answered  smiling 
again ;  "  only  our  progress  will  be  slower  than 
if  we  had  both  horses.  What  a  pity  that  I 
had  not  taken  off  his  saddle !  It  would  have 
been  more  comfortable  for  you  than  this. 
But  I  was  searching  so  anxiously  for  the 
rider  that  I  took  little  heed  to  the  horse  ex 
cept  to  hastily  hobble  him.  And  when  I 
found  you  you  needed  all  my  attention. 
Now  I  advise  you  to  lie  down  and  rest  until 
I  get  packed  up.  It  won't  take  me  long." 

She  curled  down  obediently  to  rest  until 
he  was  ready  to  fold  up  the  canvas  on  which 
she  lay,  and  watched  his  easy  movements  as 
he  put  together  the  few  articles  of  the  pack, 
and  arranged  the  saddle  for  her  comfort. 
Then  he  strode  over  to  her. 

"With  your  permission,"  he  said  and 
stooping  picked  her  up  lightly  in  his  arms 
and  placed  her  on  the  horse. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "  but  you 
are  not  equal  to  the  exertion  of  mounting  in 
the  ordinary  way.  You  will  need  every  bit 


90      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  strength  for  the  ride.     You  are  weak£s 
than  you  realize." 

Her  laugh  rippled  out  faintly. 

"  You  make  me  feel  like  an  insignificant 
baby.  I  didn't  know  what  was  happening 
until  you  had  me  here.  You  must  have  the 
strength  of  a  giant.  I  never  felt  so  little  be 
fore." 

"You  are  not  a  heavy  burden,"  he  said 
smiling.  "  Now  are  you  quite  comfortable? 
If  so  we'll  start." 

Billy  arched  his  neck  and  turned  his  head 
proudly  to  survey  his  new  rider,  a  look  of 
friendliness  on  his  bay  face  and  in  his  kindly 
eye. 

"  Oh,  isn't  he  a  beauty ! "  exclaimed  the 
girl  reaching  out  a  timid  hand  to  pat  his 
neck.  The  horse  bowed  and  almost  seemed 
to  smile.  Brownleigh  noticed  the  gleam  of  a 
splendid  jewel  on  the  little  hand. 

"  Billy  is  my  good  friend  and  constant 
companion,"  said  the  missionary.  "We've 
faced  some  long,  hard  days  together.  He  is 
wanting  me  to  tell  you  now  that  he  is  proud 
to  carry  you  back  to  your  friends." 

Billy  bowed  up  and  down  and  smiled  again, 
and  Hazel  laughed  out  with  pleasure.  Then 
her  face  grew  sober  again. 

"  But  you  will  have  to  walk,"  she  said.    "  I 


THE  TRAIL  91 

cannot  take  your  horse  and  let  you  waik.  I 
won;t  do  that  I'm  going  to  walk  with 
you." 

"  And  use  up  what  strength  you  have  so 
that  you  could  not  even  ride  ? "  he  said 
pleasantly.  "  No,  1  couldn't  allow  that,  you 
know,  and  I  am  pleased  to  walk  with  a  com 
panion.  A  missionary's  life  is  pretty  lone 
some  sometimes,  you  know.  Come,  Billy, 
we  must  be  starting,  for  we  want  to  make  a 
good  ten  miles  before  we  stop  to  rest  if  our 
guest  can  stand  the  journey." 

With  stately  steppings  as  if  he  knew  he 
bore  a  princess  Billy  started ;  and  with  long, 
easy  strides  Brownleigh  walked  by  his  side, 
ever  watchful  of  the  way,  and  furtively  ob 
serving  the  face  of  the  girl,  whose  strength 
he  well  knew  must  be  extremely  limited  after 
her  ride  of  the  day  before. 

Out  on  the  top  of  the  mesa  looking  off 
towards  the  great  mountains  and  the  wide 
expanse  of  seemingly  infinite  shades  and 
colourings  Hazel  drew  her  breath  in  wonder 
at  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  Her  companion 
called  her  attention  to  this  and  that  point 
of  interest.  The  slender  dark  line  across  the 
plain  was  mesquite.  He  told  her  how  when 
once  they  had  entered  it  it  would  seem  to 
spread  out  vastly  as  though  it  filled  the  whole 


92      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

valley,  and  that  then  looking  back  the  grassy 
slope  below  them  would  seem  to  be  an  insig 
nificant  streak  of  yellow.  He  told  her  it  was 
always  so  in  this  land,  that  the  kind  of  land 
scape  through  which  one  was  passing  filled 
the  whole  view  and  seemed  the  only  thing  in 
life.  He  said  he  supposed  it  was  so  in  all 
our  lives,  that  the  immediate  present  filled 
the  whole  view  of  the  future  until  we  came  to 
something  else  ;  and  the  look  in  his  eyes 
made  her  turn  from  the  landscape  and  won 
der  about  him  and  his  life. 

Then  he  stooped  and  pointed  to  a  clump 
of  soapweed,  and  idly  broke  off  a  bit  of  an 
other  bush,  handing  it  to  her. 

"  The  Indians  call  it  *  the  weed  that  was 
not  scared/  "  he  said.  "  Isn't  it  an  odd  sug 
gestive  name  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  a  brave  little  weed  indeed  to 
live  out  here  all  alone  under  this  terribly  big 
sky.  I  wouldn't  like  it  even  if  I  were  only  a 
weed,"  and  she  looked  around  and  shivered 
with  the  thought  of  her  fearful  ride  alone  in 
tile  night.  But  she  tucked  the  little  spray  of 
brave  green  into  the  buttonhole  of  her  riding 
habit  and  it  looked  of  prouder  lineage  than 
any  weed  as  it  rested  against  the  handsome 
darkness  of  the  rich  green  cloth.  For  an  in 
stant  the  missionary  studied  the  picture  of 


THE  TRAIL  93 

the  lovely  girl  on  the  horse  and  forgot  that 
he  was  only  a  missionary.  Then  with  a  start 
he  came  to  himself.  They  must  be  getting 
on,  for  the  sun  had  already  passed  its  zenith, 
and  the  way  was  long  before  them.  His  eyes 
lingered  wistfully  on  the  gleam  of  her  hair 
where  the  sun  touched  it  into  burnished  gold, 
Then  he  remembered. 

"  By  the  way,  is  this  yours  ?  "  he  asked, 
and  brought  out  of  his  pocket  the  little  velvet 
cap. 

"  Oh,  where  did  you  find  it?  "  she  cried,  set 
tling  it  on  her  head  like  a  touch  of  velvet  in  a 
crown.  "  I  dropped  it  in  front  of  a  tiny  little 
cabin  when  my  last  hope  vanished.  I  called 
and  called  but  the  wind  threw  my  voice  back 
into  my  throat  and  no  one  came  out  to  an' 
swer  me." 

"  It  was  my  house,"  he  said.  "  I  found  it 
on  a  sage-bush  a  few  feet  from  my  own  door. 
Would  that  I  had  been  at  home  to  answer 
your  call  I " 

"  Your  house  ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  wonder. 
"Oh,  why,  it  couldn't  have  been.  It  wasn't 
big  enough  for  anybody — not  anybody  like 
you — to  live  in.  Why,  it  wasn't  anything 
more  than  a — a  shed, — just  a  little  board 
shanty." 

"  Exactly ;  my  shack ! "  he  said  half  apolo* 


94      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

getically,  half  comically.  "  You  should  see 
the  inside.  It's  not  so  bad  as  it  looks.  I 
only  wish  I  could  take  you  that  way,  but  the 
fact  is  it's  somewhat  out  of  the  way  to  the 
railroad,  and  we  must  take  the  short  cut  if  we 
want  to  shorten  your  father's  anxiety.  Do 
you  feel  able  to  go  on  further  now  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  quite,"  she  said  with  sudden 
trouble  in  her  face.  "  Papa  will  be  very  much 
worried,  and  Aunt  Maria — oh,  Aunt  Maria 
will  be  wild  with  anxiety.  She  will  tell  me 
that  this  is  just  what  she  expected  from  my 
going"  out  riding  in  this  heathen  land.  She 
warned  me  not  to  go.  She  said  it  wasn't 
ladylike." 

As  they  went  on  gradually  she  told  him 
all  about  her  people,  describing  their  little 
idiosyncrasies ;  her  aunt,  her  brother,  her 
father,  her  maid  and  even  the  fat  man  cook. 
The  young  man  soon  had  the  picture  of  the 
private  car  with  all  its  luxuries,  and  the  story 
of  the  days  of  travel  that  had  been  one  long 
fairy  tale  of  pleasure.  Only  the  man  Hamar 
was  not  mentioned  ;  but  the  missionary  had 
not  forgotten  him.  Somehow  he  had  taken 
a  dislike  to  him  from  the  first  mention  of  his 
name.  He  blamed  him  fiercely  for  not  hav 
ing  come  after  the  maiden,  yet  blessed  the 
fortune  that  had  given  himself  that  honour 


THE  TRAIL  ^5 

They  were  descending  into  the  canyon  now, 
but  not  by  the  steep  trail  up  which  the  pony 
had  taken  her  the  night  before.  However  it 
was  rough  enough  and  the  descent,  though 
it  was  into  the  very  heart  of  nature's  beauty 
storehouse,  yet  frightened  Hazel.  She  started 
at  every  steep  place,  and  clutched  at  the  sad 
dle  wildly,  pressing  her  white  teeth  hard  into 
her  under  lip  until  it  grew  white  and  tense. 
Her  face  was  white  also,  and  a  sudden  faint- 
ness  seemed  to  come  upon  her.  Brownleigh 
noticed  instantly,  and  walking  close  beside  the 
horse,  guiding  carefully  his  every  step,  he  put 
his  free  arm  about  her  to  steady  her,  and 
bade  her  lean  towards  him  and  not  be  afraid. 

His  strength  steadied  her  and  gave  her 
confidence  ;  and  his  pleasant  voice  pointing 
out  the  beauties  of  the  way  helped  her  to  for 
get  her  fright.  He  made  her  look  up  and 
showed  her  how  the  great  ferns  were  hang 
ing  over  in  a  fringe  of  green  at  the  top  of 
the  bare  rocks  above,  their  delicate  lacerj 
standing  out  like  green  fretwork  against  the 
blue  of  the  sky.  He  pointed  to  a  cave  in 
the  rocks  far  above,  and  told  her  of  the 
dwellers  of  old  who  had  hollowed  it  out  for 
a  home ;  of  the  stone  axes  and  jars  of  clay, 
the  corn  mills  and  sandals  woven  of  yucca 
that  were  found  there  ;  and  of  other  curious 


96      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

eave-houses  in  this  part  of  the  country  ;  giv 
ing  in   answer   to  her  wondering  questions 
much  curious  information,  the  like  of  which 
she  had  never  heard  before. 

Then  when  they  were  fairly  down  in  the 
shadows  of  the  canyon  he  brought  her  a 
cooling  draught  of  spring  water  in  the  tin 
cup,  and  lifting  her  unexpectedly  from  the 
horse  made  her  sit  in  a  mossy  spot  where 
sweet  flowers  clustered  about,  and  rest  for  a 
few  minutes,  for  he  knew  the  ride  down  the 
steep  path  had  been  terribly  trying  to  her 
nerves. 

Yet  all  his  attentions  to  her,  whether  lifting 
her  to  and  from  the  saddle,  or  putting  his 
arm  about  her  to  support  her  on  the  way, 
were  performed  with  such  grace  of  courtesy 
as  to  remove  all  personality  from  his  touch, 
and  she  marvelled  at  it  while  she  sat  and 
rested  and  watched  him  from  the  distance 
watering  Billy  at  a  noisy  little  stream  that 
chattered  through  the  canyon. 

He  put  her  on  the  horse  again  and  they 
took  their  way  through  the  coolness  and 
beauty  of  the  canyon  winding  along  the  edge 
of  the  little  stream,  threading  their  way  among 
the  trees,  and  over  boulders  and  rough 
places  until  at  last  in  the  late  afternoon  they 
came  out  again  upon  the  plain. 


THE  TRAIL  97 

The  missionary  looked  anxiously  at  the 
sun.  It  had  taken  longer  to  come  through 
the  canyon  than  he  had  anticipated.  The  day 
was  waning.  He  quickened  Billy  into  a 
trot  and  settled  into  a  long  athletic  run  be 
side  him,  while  the  girl's  cheeks  flushed  with 
'the  exercise  and  wind,  and  her  admiration  of 
her  escort  grew. 

"  But  aren't  you  very  tired  ?  "  she  asked  at 
last  when  he  slowed  down  and  made  Billy 
walk  again.  Billy,  by  the  way,  had  enjoyed 
the  race  immensely.  He  thought  he  was 
having  a  grand  time  with  a  princess  on  his 
back  and  his  beloved  master  keeping  pace 
with  him.  He  was  confident  by  this  time  that 
ehey  were  bringing  the  princess  home  to  be 
there  to  welcome  them  on  all  returns  here 
after.  His  horse-sense  had  jumped  tc  a  con« 
elusion  and  approved  most  heartily. 

"  Tired  ! "      answered     Brownleigh     and 
laughed ;    "  not  consciously.     I'm   good  for 
several  miles  yet  myself.     I  haven't  had  such 
,a  good  time  in  three  years,  not  since  I  left 
'home — and  mother,"  he  added  softly,  rever 
ently. 

There  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  made  the 
girl  long  to  know  more.  She  watched  him 
keenly  and  asked  : 

"  Oh,  then  you  have  a  mother  I M 


98      THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Yes,  I  have  a  mother, — a  wonderful 
mother!11  He  breathed  the  words  like  a 
blessing.  The  girl  looked  at  him  in  awe. 
She  had  no  mother.  Her  own  had  died  be 
fore  she  could  remember.  Aunt  Maria  was 
her  only  idea  of  mothers. 

"  Is  she  out  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  she  is  at  home  up  in  New  Hamp 
shire  in  a  little  quiet  country  town,  but  she  is 
a  wonderful  mother." 

"  And  have  you  no  one  else,  no  other 
family  out  here  with  you  ?  " 

Hazel  did  not  realize  how  anxiously  she 
awaited  the  answer  to  that  question.  Some 
how  she  felt  a  jealous  dislike  of  any  one  who 
might  belong  to  him,  even  a  mother — and  a 
sudden  thought  of  sister  or  wife  who  might 
share  the  little  shanty  cabin  with  him  made 
her  watch  his  face  narrowly.  But  the  answer 
was  quick,  with  almost  a  shadow  like  deep 
longing  on  his  face : 

"  Oh,  no,  I  have  no  one.  I'm  all  alone. 
And  sometimes  if  it  were  not  for  mother's  let 
ters  it  would  seem  a  great  way  from  home." 

The  girl  did  not  know  why  it  was  so 
pleasant  to  know  this,  and  why  her  heart 
went  out  in  instant  sympathy  for  him. 

"  O-oo ! "  she  said  gently.  "  Tell  me  about 
your  mother,  please  1 " 


THE  TRAIL  99 

And  so  he  told  her,  as  he  walked  beside 
her,  of  his  invalid  mother  whose  frail  body 
and  its  needs  bound  her  to  a  couch  in  her  old 
New  England  home,  helpless  and  carefully 
tended  by  a  devoted  nurse  whom  she  loved 
and  who  loved  her.  Her  great  spirit  had 
risen  to  the  sacrifice  of  sending  her  only  son. 
out  to  the  desert  on  his  chosen  commission. 

They  had  been  climbing  a  long  sloping 
hill,  and  at  the  climax  of  the  story  had 
reached  the  top  and  could  look  abroad  again 
over  a  wide  expanse  of  country.  It  seemed 
to  Hazel's  city  bred  eyes  as  though  the  king 
doms  of  the  whole  world  lay  spread  before 
her  awed  gaze.  A  brilliant  sunset  was 
spreading  a  great  silver  light  behind  the 
purple  mountains  in  the  west,  red  and  blue 
in  flaming  lavishness,  with  billows  of  white 
clouds  floating  above,  and  over  that  in  sharp 
contrast  the  sky  was  velvet  black  with  storm. 
To  the  south  the  rain  was  falling  in  a  brilliant 
Shower  like  yellow  gold,  and  to  the  east  two 
more  patches  of  rain  were  rosy  pink  as  petals 
of  some  wondrous  flowers,  and  arching  over 
them  a  half  rainbow.  Turning  slightly 
towards  the  north  one  saw  the  rain  falling 
from  dark  blue  clouds  in  great  streaks  of 
white  light. 

"  Oh-oo  t "  breathed  the  girl ;  "  how  won- 


loo    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

derful !  I  never  saw  anything  like  that  be 
fore." 

But  the  missionary  had  no  time  for  answer. 
He  began  quickly  to  unstrap  the  canvas  from 
behind  the  saddle,  watching  the  clouds  as  he 
did  so. 

"We  are  going  to  get  a  wetting,  I'm 
afraid/'  he  said  and  looked  anxiously  at  his 
companion. 


CAMP 

IT  came  indeed  before  he  was  quite  ready 
for  it,  but  he  managed  to  throw  the  can 
vas  over  horse  and  lady,  bidding  her 
hold  it  on  one  side  while  he,  standing  close 
under  the  extemporized  tent,  held  the  othei 
side,  leaving  an  opening  in  front  for  air,  and 
so  they  managed  to  keep  tolerably  dry,  while 
two  storms  met  overhead  and  poured  down 
a  torrent  upon  them. 

The  girl  laughed  out  merrily  as  the  first 
great  splashes  struck  her  face,  then  retreated 
into  the  shelter  as  she  was  bidden  and  sat 
quietly  watching,  and  wondering  over  it  all. 

Here  was  she,  a  carefully  nurtured  daugh 
ter  of  society,  until  now  never  daring  to  step 
one  inch  beyond  the  line  of  conventionality, 
sitting  afar  from  all  her  friends  and  kindred 
on  a  wide  desert  plain,  under  a  bit  of  canvas 
with  a  strange  missionary's  arm  about  her, 
and  sitting  as  securely  and  contentedly,  nay 
happily,  as  if  she  had  been  in  her  own  cush 
ioned  chair  in  her  New  York  boudoir.  It  is 
true  the  arm  was  about  her  for  the  purpose 

101 


102    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  holding-  down  the  canvas  and  keeping  out 
the  rain,  but  there  was  a  wonderful  security 
and  sense  of  strength  in  it  that  filled  her  witK 
a  strange  new  joy  and  made  her  wish  that 
the  elements  of  the  universe  might  continue 
to  rage  in  brilliant  display  about  her  head  a 
little  longer,  if  thereby  she  might  continue  to 
feel  the  strength  of  that  fine  presence  near 
her  and  about  her.  A  great  weariness  was 
upon  her  and  this  was  rest  and  content,  so 
she  put  all  other  thoughts  out  of  her  mind 
for  the  time  and  rested  back  against  the 
strong  arm  in  full  realization  of  her  safety 
amidst  the  disturbance  of  the  elements. 

The  missionary  wore  his  upward  look. 
No  word  passed  between  them  as  the  pan 
orama  of  the  storm  swept  by.  Only  God 
knew  what  was  passing  in  his  soul,  and  how 
out  of  that  dear  nearness  of  the  beautiful  girl 
a  great  longing  was  born  to  have  her  always 
near  him,  his  right  to  ever  protect  her  from 
the  storms  of  life. 

But  he  was  a  man  of  marked  self-control 
He  held  even  his  thoughts  in  obedience  to  a 
higher  power,  and  while  the  wild  wish  of  his 
heart  swept  exquisitely  over  him  he  stood 
calmly,  and  handed  it  back  to  heaven  as 
though  he  knew  it  were  a  wandering  wish,  a 
testing  of  his  true  self. 


CAMP  103 

At  the  first  instant  of  relief  from  necessity 
he  took  his  arm  away.  He  did  not  presume 
a  single  second  to  hold  the  canvas  after  the 
wind  had  subsided,  and  she  liked  him  the 
better  for  it,  and  felt  her  trust  in  him  grow 
deeper  as  he  gently  shook  the  raindrops  from 
their  temporary  shelter. 

The  rain  had  lasted  but  a  few  minutes,  and 
as  the  clouds  cleared  the  earth  grew  lighter 
for  a  space.  Gently  melting  into  the  silver 
and  amethyst  and  emerald  of  the  sky  the 
rainbow  faded  and  now  they  hurried  on,  for 
Brownleigh  wished  to  reach  a  certain  spot 
where  he  hoped  to  find  dry  shelter  for  the 
night.  He  saw  that  the  excitement  of  travel 
and  the  storm  had  sorely  spent  the  strength 
of  the  girl,  and  that  she  needed  rest,  so  he 
urged  the  horse  forward,  and  hurried  along 
by  his  side. 

But  suddenly  he  halted  the  horse  and 
looked  keenly  into  the  face  of  his  companion 
in  the  dying  light. 

"  You  are  very  tired,"  he  said.  "  You  can 
hardly  sit  up  any  longer." 

She  smiled  faintly. 

Her  whole  body  was  drooping  with  weari 
ness  and  a  strange  sick  faintness  had  come 
upon  her. 

"We  must  stop  here,"  he  said  and  cast 


104    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

about  him  for  a  suitable  spot.  "  Well, 
will  do.  Here  is  a  dry  place,  the  shelter  of 
that  big  rock.  The  rain  was  from  the  other 
direction,  and  the  ground  around  here  did 
not  even  get  sprinkled.  That  group  of  trees 
will  do  for  a  private  room  for  you.  We'll 
soon  have  a  fire  and  some  supper  and  then 
you'll  feel  better.'1 

With  that  he  stripped  off  his  coat  and, 
spreading  it  upon  the  ground  in  the  dry 
shelter  of  a  great  rock,  lifted  the  drooping 
girl  from  the  saddle  and  laid  her  gently  on 
the  coat. 

She  closed  her  eyes  wearily  and  sank  back. 
In  truth  she  was  nearer  to  fainting  than  she 
had  ever  been  in  her  life,  and  the  young  man 
hastened  to  administer  a  restorative  which 
brought  the  colour  back  to  her  pale  cheeks. 

"It  is  nothing,"  she  murmured,  opening 
her  eyes  and  trying  to  smile.  "  I  was  just 
tired,  and  my  back  ached  with  so  much  rid- 
ing." 

"  Don't  talk  !  "  he  said  gently.  "  I'll  give 
you  something  to  hearten  you  up  in  a  minute." 

He  quickly  gathered  sticks  and  soon  had  a 
blazing  fire  not  far  from  where  she  lay,  and  the 
glow  of  it  played  over  her  face  and  her  golden 
hair,  while  he  prepared  a  second  cup  of  beef 
extract,  and  blessed  the  fortune  that  had  made 


CAMP  105 

him  fill  his  canteen  with  water  at  the  spring 
in  the  canyon,  for  water  might  not  be  very 
near,  and  he  felt  that  to  have  to  move  the 
girl  further  along  that  night  would  be  a  dis 
aster.  He  could  see  that  she  was  about  used 
up.  But  while  he  was  making  preparations 
for  supper,  Billy,  who  was  hobbled  but  en 
tirely  able  to  edge  about  slowly,  had  discov 
ered  a  water-hole  for  himself,  and  settled  that 
difficulty.  Brownleigh  drew  a  sigh  of  relief, 
and  smiled  happily  as  he  saw  his  patient  re 
vive  under  the  influence  of  the  hot  drink  and 
a  few  minutes'  rest. 

"I'm  quite  able  to  go  on  a  little  further," 
she  said,  sitting  up  with  an  effort,  "  if  you 
think  we  should  go  further  to-night.  I  really 
don't  feel  bad  at  all  any  more." 

He  smiled  with  relief. 

"  I'm  so  glad,"  he  said ;  "  I  was  afraid  I 
had  made  you  (travel  too  far.  No,  we'll  not 
go  further  till  daylight,  I  think.  This  is  as 
good  a  place  to  camp  as  any,  and  water  not 
far  away.  You  will  find  your  boudoir  just 
inside  that  group  of  trees,  and  in  half  an  hour 
or  so  the  canvas  will  be  quite  dry  for  y cur 
bed.  I've  got  it  spread  out,  you  see,  close  to 
the  fire  on  the  other  side  there.  And  it 
wasn't  wet  through.  The  blanket  was  shel 
tered.  It  will  be  warm  and  dry.  I  think  we 


106    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

can  make  you  comfortable.  Have  you  evet 
slept  out  under  the  stars  before — that  is,  oi 
course,  with  the  exception  of  last  night?  I 
1  don't  suppose  you  really  enjoyed  that  ex 
perience." 

Hazel  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

"  I  don't  remember  much  only  awful  dark 
ness  and  howling.  Will  those  creatures  come 
this  way,  do  you  think  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
die  with  fright  if  I  have  to  hear  them  again." 

"You  may  hear  them  in  the  distance,  but 
not  nearby,"  he  answered  reassuringly;  "they 
do  not  like  the  fire.  They  will  not  come  near 
nor  disturb  you.  Besides,  I  shall  be  close  at 
hand  all  night.  I  am  used  to  listening  and 
waking  in  the  night.  I  shall  keep  a  bright 
fire  blazing." 

"  But  you — you — what  will  you  do  ?  You 
are  planning  to  give  me  the  canvas  and  the 
blanket,  and  stay  awake  yourself  keeping 
watch.  You  have  walked  all  day  while  I 
have  ridden,  and  you  have  been  nurse  and 
cook  as  well,  while  I  have  been  good  for 
nothing.  And  now  you  want  me  to  rest  com 
fortably  all  night  while  you  sit  up." 

There  was  a  ring  in  the  young  man's 
voice  as  he  answered  her  that  thrilled  her  to 
the  heart. 

"  I  shall  be  all  right,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 


CAMP  107 

was  positively  joyous,  "  and  I  shall  have  the 
greatest  night  of  my  life  taking  care  of  you. 
I  count  it  a  privilege.  Many  a  night  have  I 
slept  alone  under  the  stars  with  no  one  to 
guard,  and  felt  the  loneliness.  Now  I  shall 
always  have  this  to  remember.  Besides,  I 
shall  not  sit  up.  I  am  used  to  throwing  my 
self  down  anywhere.  My  clothing  is  warm, 
and  uiy  saddle  :s  used  to  acting  as  a  pillow. 
I  so  nil  sleep  and  rest,  and  yet  be  always 
on  the  alert  to  keep  up  the  fire  and  hear 
any  sound  th^i  comes  near. '  He  talked  as 
though  he  were  recounting  the  plan  of  some 
delightful  recreation,  and  the  girl  lay  and 
watched  his  handsome  face  in  the  play  of  the 
firelight  and  rejoiced  in  it.  Somehow  there 
was  something  very  sweet  in  companionship 
alone  in  the  vast  silence  with  this  stranger 
friend.  She  found  herself  glad  of  the  wide- 
ness  of  the  desert  and  the  stillness  of  the 
night  that  shut  out  the  world  and  made  their 
most  unusual  relationship  possible  for  a  little 
while.  A  great  longing  possessed  her  to 
know  more  and  understand  better  the  fine 
personality  of  this  man  who  was  a  man 
among  men,  she  was  convinced. 

Suddenly  as  he  came  and  sat  down  by  the 
fire  not  far  from  her  after  attending  to  the  few 
supper  dishes,  she  burst  forth  with  a  question? 


108    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Why  did  you  do  it ?" 

He  turned  to  her  eyes  that  were  filled  with 
a  deep  content  and  asked,  "  Do  what  ?  " 

"Come  here!  Be  a  missionary!  Why 
did  you  do  it?  You  are  fitted  for  bettef 
things.  You  could  fill  a  large  city  church, 
or — even  do  other  things  in  the  world.  Why 
did  you  do  it  ?  " 

The  firelight  flickered  on  his  face  and 
showed  his  features  fine  and  strong  in  an 
expression  of  deep  feeling  that  gave  it  an 
exalted  look.  There  seemed  a  light  in  his 
eyes  that  was  more  than  firelight  as  he  raised 
them  upward  in  a  swift  glance  and  said 
quietly,  as  though  it  were  the  simplest  mat 
ter  in  the  universe : 

"Because  my  Father  called  me  to  this 
work.  And — I  doubt  if  there  can  be  any 
better.  Listen  ! " 

And  then  he  told  her  of  his  work  while  the 
fire  burned  cheerfully,  and  the  dusk  grew 
deeper,  till  the  moon  showed  clear  her  silver 
orb  riding  high  in  starry  heavens. 

The  mournful  voice  of  the  coyotes  echoed 
distantly,  but  the  girl  was  not  frightened,  for 
her  thoughts  were  held  by  the  story  of  the 
strange  childlike  race  for  whom  this  man 
among  men  was  giving  his  life. 

He  told  her  of  the  Indian  hogans,  little 


CAMP  109 

round  huts  built  of  logs  on  end,  and  slanting 
to  a  common  centre  thatched  with  turf  and 
straw,  an  opening  for  a  door  and  another  in 
the  top  to  let  out  the  smoke  of  the  fire,  a  dirt 
floor,  no  furniture  but  a  few  blankets,  sheep 
skins,  and  some  tin  dishes.  He  carried  her 
in  imagination  to  one  such  hogan  where  lay 
the  little  dying  Indian  maiden  and  made  the 
picture  of  their  barren  lives  so  vivid  that 
tears  stood  in  her  eyes  as  she  listened.  He 
told  of  the  medicine-men,  the  ignorance  and 
superstition,  the  snake  dances  and  heathen 
rites ;  the  wild,  poetic,  conservative  man  of 
the  desert  with  his  distrust,  his  great  loving 
heart,  his  broken  hopes  and  blind  aspirations  ; 
until  Hazel  began  to  see  that  he  really  loved 
them,  that  he  had  seen  the  possibility  of 
greatness  in  them,  and  longed  to  help 
develop  it. 

He  told  her  of  the  Sabbath  just  past,  when 
in  company  with  his  distant  neighbour  mis 
sionary  he  had  gone  on  an  evangelistic  tour 
among  the  tribes  far  away  from  the  mission 
station.  He  pictured  the  Indians  sitting  on 
rocks  and  stones  amid  the  long  shadows  of 
the  cedar  trees,  just  before  the  sundown, 
listening  to  a  sermon.  He  had  reminded 
them  of  their  Indian  god  Begochiddi  and  of 
Nilhchii  whom  the  Indians  believe  to  have 


I  io    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

made  all  things,  the  same  whom  white  men 
call  God  ;  and  showed  them  a  book  called 
the  Bible  which  told  the  story  of  God,  and  of 
Jesus  His  Son  who  came  to  save  men  from 
their  sin.  Not  one  of  the  Indians  had  ever 
heard  the  name  of  Jesus  before,  nor  knew 
anything  of  the  great  story  of  salvation. 

Hazel  found  herself  wondering  why  it 
made  so  very  much  difference  whether  these 
poor  ignorant  creatures  knew  all  this  or  not, 
and  yet  she  saw  from  the  face  of  the  man 
before  her  that  it  did  matter,  infinitely.  To 
him  it  mattered  more  than  anything  else.  A 
passing  wish  that  she  were  an  Indian  to  thus 
hold  his  interest  flashed  through  her  mind, 
but  he  was  speaking  yet  of  his  work,  and  his 
rapt  look  filled  her  with  awe.  She  was  over 
whelmed  with  the  greatness  and  the  fineness 
of  the  man  before  her.  Sitting  there  in  the 
fitful  firelight,  with  its  ruddy  glow  upon  his 
face,  his  hat  off  and  the  moon  laying  a  silver 
crown  upon  his  head,  he  seemed  half  angel, 
half  god.  She  had  never  before  been  so 
filled  with  the  joy  of  beholding  another  soul. 
She  had  no  room  for  thoughts  of  anything 
else. 

Then  suddenly  he  remembered  that  it  was 
late. 

"  I  have  kept  you  awake  far  too  long,"  he 


CAMP  in 

said  penitently,  looking  at  her  with  a  smile 
that  seemed  all  tenderness.  "  We  ought  to 
get  on  our  way  as  soon  as  it  is  light,  and  I 
have  made  you  listen  to  me  when  you  ought 
to  have  been  sleeping.  But  I  always  like  to 
have  a  word  with  my  Father  before  retiring. 
Shall  we  have  our  worship  together  ?  " 

Hazel,  overcome  by  wonder  and  embar 
rassment,  assented  and  lay  still  in  her  shel 
tered  spot  watching  him  as  he  drew  a  small 
leather  book  from  his  breast  pocket  and 
opened  to  the  place  marked  by  a  tiny  silken 
cord.  Then  stirring  up  the  fire  to  brightness 
he  began  to  read  and  the  majestic  words  of  the 
ninety-first  psalm  came  to  her  unaccustomed 
ears  as  a  charmed  page. 

"  He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of 
the  Most  High  shall  abide  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Almighty." 

"  He  shall  cover  thee  with  His  feathers 
and  under  His  wings  shalt  thou  trust."  The 
words  were  uttered  with  a  ringing  tone  of 
trust.  The  listener  knew  little  of  birds  and 
their  ways,  but  the  phrasing  reminded  her  of 
the  way  she  had  been  sheltered  from  the 
storm  a  little  while  before  and  her  heart 
thrilled  anew  with  the  thought  of  it. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  be  afraid  for  the  terror  bf 
night  1" 


U2     THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Ah !  Terror  by  night  1  She  knew  what 
that  meant.  That  awful  night  of  darkness, 
steep  riding,  howling  beasts  and  black  ob 
livion  !  She  shuddered  involuntarily  at  the 
remembrance.  Not  afraid !  What  confidence 
the  voice  had  as  it  rang  on,  and  all  at  once 
she  knew  that  this  night  was  free  from  terror 
for  her  because  of  the  man  whese  confidence 
was  in  the  Unseen. 

"  He  shall  give  His  angels  charge  over 
thee,"  and  looking  at  him  she  half  expected 
to  see  flitting  wings  in  the  moonlit  back 
ground.  How  strong  and  true  the  face ! 
How  tender  the  lines  about  the  mouth  ! 
What  a  glow  of  inner  quietness  and  power 
in  the  eyes  as  he  raised  them  now  and  again 
to  her  face  across  the  firelight  I  What  a 
thing  it  would  be  to  have  a  friend  like  that 
always  to  guard  one !  Her  eyes  glowed 
softly  at  the  thought  and  once  again  there 
flashed  across  her  mind  the  contrast  between 
this  man  and  the  one  from  whom  she  had 
fled  in  horror  the  day  before. 

The  reading  ended,  he  replaced  the  little 
marker,  and  dropping  upon  one  knee  on  the 
desert  with  his  face  lifted  to  the  sky  and  all 
the  radiance  of  the  moon  flooding  over  him 
he  spoke  to  God  as  a  man  speaks  with  his 
friend,  face  to  face. 


CAMP  113 

Hazel  lay  with  open,  wondering  eyes  and 
watched  him,  awe  growing  within  her.  The 
sense  of  an  unseen  Presence  close  at  hand 
was  so  strong  that  once  she  lifted  half  fright 
ened  eyes  to  the  wide  clear  sky.  The  light 
on  the  face  of  the  missionary  seemed  like 
glory  from  another  world. 

She  felt  herself  enfolded  and  upborne 
into  the  Presence  of  the  infinite  by  his 
words,  and  he  did  not  forget  to  commend 
her  loved  ones  to  the  care  of  the  Almighty. 
A  great  peace  came  upon  her  as  she  lis 
tened  to  the  simple,  earnest  words  and  a 
sense  of  security  such  as  she  had  never 
known  before. 

After  the  brief  prayer  he  turned  to  her 
with  a  smile  and  a  few  words  of  assurance 
about  the  night.  There  was  her  dressing- 
room  behind  those  trees,  and  she  need  not 
be  afraid ;  he  would  not  be  far  away.  He 
would  keep  the  fire  bright  all  night  so  that 
she  would  not  be  annoyed  by  the  near  howl 
ing  of  the  coyotes.  Then  he  moved  away  to 
gather  more  wood,  and  she  heard  him  sing 
ing,  softly  at  first,  and  then  gathering  volume 
as  he  got  further  away,  his  rich  tenor  voice 
ringing  clear  upon  the  night  in  an  old  hymn. 
The  words  floated  back  distinctly  to  hel 
listening  ears : 


114    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  My  God,  is  any  hour  so  sweet 

From  flush  of  dawn  to  evening  star, 
As  that  which  calls  me  to  Thy  feet, 
The  hour  of  prayer  ? 

u  Then  is  my  strength  by  Thee  renewed  ; 
Then  are  my  sins  by  Thee  forgiven  ; 
Then  dost  Thou  cheer  my  solitude 
With  hopes  of  heaven. 

"  No  words  can  tell  what  sweet  relief 
There  for  my  every  want  I  find  ; 
What  strength  for  warfare,  balm  for  grief, 
What  peace  of  mind  !  " 

She  lay  down  for  the  night  marvelling  still 
over  the  man.  He  was  singing  those  words 
as  if  he  meant  every  one,  and  she  knew  that 
he  possessed  something  that  made  him  dif 
ferent  from  other  men.  What  was  it?  It 
seemed  to  her  that  he  was  the  one  man  of 
all  the  earth,  and  how  was  it  that  she  had 
found  him  away  out  here  alone  in  the  desert  ? 

The  great  stars  burne^  sharply  in  the 
heavens  over  her,  the  white  radiance  of  the 
Jioon  lay  all  about  her,  the  firelight  played 
at  her  feet.  Far  away  she  could  hear  the 
fowling  of  the  coyotes,  but  she  was  ~iet 
afraid. 

She  could  see  the  broad  shoulders  of  the 
man  as  he  stooped  ovei  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fire  to  throw  on  more  wood.  Presently 


CAMP  115 

she  knew  he  had  thrown  himself  down  with 
his  head  on  the  saddle,  but  she  could  hear 
him  still  humming  softly  something  that 
sounded  like  a  lullaby.  When  the  firelight 
flared  up  it  showed  his  fine  profile. 

Not  far  away  she  could  hear  Billy  cropping 
the  grass,  and  throughout  the  vast  open 
universe  there  seemed  to  brood  a  great  and 
peaceful  silence.  She  was  very  tired  and  her 
eyelids  drooped  shut.  The  last  thing  she 
remembered  was  a  line  he  had  read  from 
the  little  book,  "  He  shall  give  His  angels 

charge "  and  she  wondered  if  they  were 

somewhere  about  now. 

That  was  all  until  she  awoke  suddenly  with 
the  consciousness  that  she  was  alone,  and 
that  in  the  near  distance  a  conversation  in  a 
Sow  tone  was  being  carried  on. 


vn 

REVELATION 

THE  moon  was  gone,  and  the  lumi 
nous  silver  atmosphere  was  turned 
into  a  clear  dark  blue,  with  shadows 
of  the  blackness   of   velvet;   but   the  stars 
burned  redder  now,  and  nearer  to  the  earth. 
The  fire  still  flickered  brightly,  with  a  glow 
the  moon  had  paled  before  she  went  to  sleep, 
but   there   was  no  protecting  figure  on  the 
other    side   of  the   flames,   and   the   angels 
seemed  all  to  have  forgotten. 

Off  at  a  little  distance,  where  a  group  of 
sage-brush  made  dense  darkness,  she  heard 
the  talking.  One  speaking  in  low  tones,  now 
pleading,  now  explaining,  deeply  earnest, 
with  a  mingling  of  anxiety  and  trouble.  She 
could  not  hear  any  words.  She  seemed  to 
know  the  voice  was  low  that  she  might  not 
hear ;  yet  it  filled  her  with  a  great  fear. 
What  had  happened  ?  Had  som^  one  come 
to  harm  them,  and  was  he  pleading  for  her 
life  ?  Strange  to  say  it  never  entered  hei 
head  to  doubt  his  loyalty,  stranger  though  h* 
116 


REVELATION  117 

was.  Her  only  feeling  was  that  he  might 
have  been  overpowered  in  his  sleep,  and  be 
even  now  in  need  of  help  himself.  What 
could  she  do  ? 

After  the  first  instant  of  frozen  horror  she 
was  on  the  alert.  He  had  saved  her,  she 
must  help  him.  She  could  not  hear  any 
other  voice  than  his.  Probably  the  enemy 
spoke  in  whispers,  but  she  knew  that  she 
must  go  at  once  and  find  out  what  was  the 
matter.  The  distance  from  her  pleasant 
couch  beside  the  fire  was  but  a  few  steps, 
yet  it  seemed  to  her  frightened  heart  and 
trembling  limbs,  as  she  crept  softly  over 
towards  the  sage-brush,  that  it  was  miles. 

At  last  she  was  close  to  the  bush,  could 
part  it  with  her  cold  hand  and  look  into  the 
little  shelter. 

There  was  a  faint  light  in  the  east  beyond 
the  mountains  that  showed  the  coming  dawn, 
and  silhouetted  against  this  she  saw  the 
figure  of  her  rescuer,  dropped  upon  one  knee, 
his  elbow  on  the  other  and  his  face  bowed  in 
his  hand.  She  could  hear  his  words  dis 
tinctly  now,  but  there  was  no  man  else  pres 
ent,  though  she  searched  the  darkness  care 
fully. 

"  I  found  her  lost  out  here  in  the  wilder 
ness,"  he  was  saying  in  low,  earnest  tones, 


Ii8    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

0  so  beautiful,  so  dear  !     But  I  know  she  can- 
not  be  for  me.     Her  life  has  been  all  luxury 
and  I  would  not  be  a  man  to  ask  her  to  share 
the  desert  1     I  know  too  that  she  is  not  fitted 
for  the  work.     I  know  it  would  be  all  wrong, 
and  I  must  not  wish  it,  but  I  love  her,  though 

1  may   not  tell  her  so !     I  must  be  resolute 
and  strong,  and  not  show  her  what  I  feel.     I 
must   face  my  Gethsemane,  for  this  girl  is  as 
dear  to  me  as  my  own  soul  1     God  bless  and 
guard  her,  for  I  may  not." 

The  girl  had  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  un 
able  to  move  as  the  low  voice  went  on  with 
its  revelation,  but  when  the  plea  for  a  bless 
ing  upon  her  came  with  all  the  mighty  long 
ing  of  a  soul  who  loved  absorbingly,  it  was  as 
if  she  were  unable  to  bear  it,  and  she  turned 
and  fled  silently  back  to  her  couch,  creeping 
under  the  canvas,  thrilled,  frightened,  shamed 
and  glad  all  in  one.  She  closed  her  eyes  and 
the  swift  tears  of  joy  came.  He  loved  her  i 
He  loved  her!  How  the  thought  thrilled 
her.  How  her  own  heart  leaped  up  to  meet 
his  love.  The  fact  of  it  was  all  she  could  con 
tain  for  the  time  and  it  filled  her  with  an 
ecstasy  such  as  she  had  never  known  before. 
She  opened  her  eyes  to  the  stars  and  they 
shone  back  a  great  radiance  of  joy  to  her. 
The  quiet  darkness  of  the  vast  earth  all  about 


REVELATION  119 

her  seemed  suddenly  to  have  become  the 
sweetest  spot  she  had  known.  She  had  never 
thought  there  could  be  joy  like  this. 

Gradually  she  quieted  the  wild  throbbing 
of  her  heart  and  tried  to  set  her  thoughts  in 
order.  Perhaps  she  was  taking  too  much  for 
granted.  Perhaps  he  was  talking  of  another 
girl,  some  one  he  had  met  the  day  before. 
But  yet  it  seemed  as  if  there  could  be  no 
doubt.  There  would  not  be  two  girls  lost 
out  in  that  desert.  There  could  not — and 
her  heart  told  her  that  he  loved  her.  Could 
she  trust  her  heart  ?  Oh,  the  dearness  of  it 
if  it  were  true ! 

Her  face  was  burning  too,  with  the  sweet 
shame  of  having  heard  what  was  not  meant 
for  her  ears. 

Then  came  the  flash  of  pain  in  the  joy. 
Ke  did  not  intend  to  tell  her.  He  meant  to 
hide  his  love — and  for  her  sake !  And  he 
was  great  enough  to  do  so.  The  man  who 
could  sacrifice  the  things  that  other  men  hold 
dear  to  come  out  to  the  wilderness  for  the 
sake  of  a  forgotten,  half-savage  people,  could 
sacrifice  anything  for  what  he  considered 
right.  This  fact  loomed  like  a  wall  of 
adamant  across  the  lovely  way  that  joy  had 
revealed  to  her.  Her  heart  fell  with  the 
thought  that  he  was  not  to  speak  of  this  to 


120    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

her, — and  she  knew  that  more  than  for  any* 
thing  else  in  life,  more  than  anything  she 
had  ever  known,  she  longed  to  hear  him 
speak  those  words  to  her.  A  half  resentment 
filled  her  that  he  had  told  his  secret  to  An- 
other — what  concerned  her — and  would  not 
let  her  know. 

The  heart  searching  went  on,  and  now  she 
came  to  the  thorn-fact  of  the  whole  revelation. 
There  had  been  another  reason  besides  care 
for  herself  why  he  could  not  tell  her  of  his 
love, — why  he  could  not  ask  her  to  share  his 
life.  She  had  not  been  accounted  worthy. 
He  had  put  it  in  pleasant  words  and  said  she 
was  unfitted,  but  he  might  as  well  have  made 
it  plain  and  said  how  useless  she  would  be  in 
his  life. 

The  tears  came  now,  tears  of  mortification, 
for  Hazel  Radcliffe  had  never  before  in  all 
her  petted  life  been  accounted  unworthy  for 
any  position.  It  was  not  that  she  considered 
at  all  the  possibility  of  accepting  the  position 
that  was  not  to  be  offered  her.  Her  startled 
mind  had  not  even  reached  so  far ;  but  het 
pride  was  hurt  to  think  that  any  one  should 
think  her  unworthy. 

Then  over  the  whole  tumultuous  state  of 
mind  would  come  the  memory  of  his  voice 
throbbing  with  feeling  as  he  said,  "She  is 


REVELATION  121 

dear  to  me  as  my  own  soul,"  and  the  joy  of 
it  would  sweep  everything  else  away. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  to  be  had  for  her. 

The  stars  grew  pale,  and  the  rose  dawn 
grew  in  the  east.  She  presently  heard  her 
companion  return  and  replenish  the  fire, 
stirring  about  softly  among  the  dishes,  and 
move  away  again,  but  she  had  turned  her 
head  away  that  he  might  not  see  her  face, 
and  he  evidently  thought  her  still  sleeping. 

So  she  lay  and  tried  to  reason  things  out ; 
tried  to  scold  herself  for  thinking  his  words 
applied  to  her ;  tried  to  recall  her  city  life  and 
friends,  and  how  utterly  alien  this  man  and 
his  work  would  be  to  them ;  tried  to  think  of 
the  new  day  when  she  would  probably  reach 
her  friends  again  and  this  new  friend  would 
be  lost  sight  of ;  felt  a  sharp  twinge  of  pain 
at  the  thought ;  wondered  if  she  could  meet 
Milton  Hamar  and  what  they  would  say  to 
one  another,  and  if  any  sort  of  comfortable 
relations  could  ever  be  established  between 
them  again  ;  and  knew  they  could  not.  Once 
again  the  great  horror  rolled  over  her  at 
thought  of  his  kiss.  Then  came  the  start 
ling  thought  that  he  had  used  almost  the 
same  words  to  her  that  this  man  of  the  desert 
had  used  about  her,  and  yet  how  infinitely 
different  1  How  tender  and  deep  and  true, 


122    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  pure  and  high  his  face  in  contrast  to  the 
look  she  had  seen  upon  that  handsome,  evil 
face  bent  over  her  I  She  covered  her  eyes 
and  shuddered  again,  and  entertained  a  fleet- 
ing  wish  that  she  might  stay  forever  here  and 
not  return  to  his  hated  presence. 

Then  back  like  a  flood-tide  of  sunshine 
would  come  the  thought  of  the  missionary 
and  his  love  for  her,  and  everything  else 
would  be  obliterated  in  the  rapture  it  brought 

And  thus  on  rosy  wings  the  morning 
dawned,  a  clean,  straight  sunrise. 

Hazel  could  hear  the  missionary  stepping 
softly    here  and  there   preparing  breakfast, 
and  knew  he  felt  it  time  to  be  on  the  tnov- 
She  must  bestir  hersell  and  speaK,  but  her 
cheeks   grew   pink   over  the   thought  of  it 
She  kept  waiting  and  -•  _  mg  to  think  how  to 
say  good-morning  witV  nt  a  look  of  guilty 
knowledge  in  her  eyes.     i*r«gor:tly  she  heard 
him  call  to  Billy  and  move  away  Ir.  the  di 
rection  where  the  horse  was  eating  his  break 
fast.     Then  snatching  her  opportunity  she 
slipped  from  under  the  canvas  into  her  green 
boudoir. 

But  even  here  she  found  evidences  of  her 
wise  guide's  care,  for  standing  in  front  of 
the  largest  cedar  were  two  tin  cups  of  clear 
water  and  beside  them  a  small  pocket  soap- 


REVELATION  123 

case  and  a  clean  folded  handkerchief,  fine 
and  white.  He  had  done  his  best  to  supply 
her  with  toilet  articles. 

Her  heart  leaped  up  again  At  his  thought- 
fulness.  She  dashed  the  water  into  her 
glowing  face,  a^  buried  it  in  the  clean  folds 
of  the  handkerchief  -  his  handkerchief.  How 
wonderful  that  it  should  be  so  I  Kow  had  a 
mere  commonplace  bit  of  iiuen  become  so 
invested  with  the  currents  of  life  as  to  give 
such  joyful  refreshment  with  a  touch  (  The 
wonder  of  it  all  was  like  a  miracle.  She  had 
not  known  anything  in  life  could  be  like  that. 

The  great  red  cliff  across  the  valley  was 
touched  with  the  morning  sun  when  she 
emerged  from  her  green  shelter,  shyly  con 
scious  of  the  secret  that  lay  unrevealed  be 
tween  them. 

Their  little  camp  was  still  in  the  shadow. 
The  last  star  had  disappeared  as  if  a  hand 
had  turned  the  lights  low  with  a  flash  and 
revealed  the  morning. 

She  stood  for  an  instant  in  the  parting  of 
•he  cedars,  a  hand  on  each  srde  voiding  back 
the  boughs,  looking  forth  from  her  retreat ; 
and  the  man  advancing  saw  her  and  waited 
with  bared  head  to  do  her  reverence,  a  great 
light  of  love  in  his  eyes  which  he  knew  not 
was  visible,  but  which  blinded  the  eyes  of 


124    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  watching  girl,  and  made  her  cheeks  grotf 
rosier. 

The  very  air  about  them  seemed  charged 
with  an  electrical  current.  The  little  com« 
monplaces  which  they  spoke  sank  deep  into 
the  heart  of  each  and  lingered  to  bless  the 
future.  The  glances  of  their  eyes  had  many 
meetings  and  lingered  shyly  on  more  inti 
mate  ground  than  the  day  before,  yet  each  had 
grown  more  silent.  The  tenderness  of  his 
voice  was  like  a  benediction  as  he  greeted  her. 

He  seated  her  on  the  canvas  he  had  ar 
ranged  freshly  beside  a  bit  of  green  grass, 
and  prepared  to  serve  her  like  a  queen.  In 
deed  she  wore  a  queenly  bearing,  small  and 
slender  though  she  was,  her  golden  hair 
shining  in  the  morning,  and  her  eyes  bright 
as  the  stars  that  had  just  been  paled  by  day. 

There  were  fried  rabbits  cooking  in  the 
tiny  saucepan  and  corn  bread  was  toasting 
before  the  fire  on  two  sharp  sticks.  She 
found  to  her  surprise  that  she  was  hungry, 
and  that  the  breakfast  he  had  prepared 
seemed  a  most  delicious  feast. 

She  grew  secure  in  her  consciousness  that 
he  did  not  know  she  had  guessed  his  secret, 
and  let  the  joy  of  it  all  flow  over  her  and 
envelop  her.  Her  laugh  rang  out  musically 
over  the  plain,  and  he  watched  her  hungrily, 


REVELATION  125 

delightedly,  enjoying  every  minute  of  the 
companionship  with  a  kind  of  double  joy  be 
cause  of  the  barren  days  that  he  was  sure> 
were  to  come. 

Finally  he  broke  away  from  the  pleasant 
lingering  with  an  exclamation,  for  the  sun 
was  hastening  upward  and  it  was  time  they 
were  on  their  way.  Hastily  he  packed  away 
the  things,  she  trying  in  her  bungling  un- 
accustomedness  to  help  and  only  giving 
sweet  hindrance,  with  the  little  white  hands 
that  thrilled  him  so  wonderfully  as  they  came 
near  with  a  plate  or  a  cup,  or  a  bit  of  corn 
bread  that  had  been  left  out. 

He  put  her  on  the  horse  and  they  started 
on  their  way.  Yet  not  once  in  all  the  pleas 
ant  contact  had  he  betrayed  his  secret,  and 
Hazel  began  to  feel  the  burden  of  what  she 
had  found  out  weighing  guiltily  upon  her  like 
a  thing  stolen  which  she  would  gladly  replace 
but  dared  not.  Sometimes,  as  they  rode 
along,  he  quietly  talking  as  the  day  before, 
pointing  out  some  object  of  interest,  or  telling 
her  some  remarkable  story  of  his  experiences, 
she  would  wonder  if  she  had  not  been  en 
tirely  mistaken ;  heard  wrong,  maybe,  or 
made  more  of  the  words  than  she  should 
have  done.  She  grew  to  feel  that  he  could 
not  have  meant  her  at  all.  And  then  turning 


126    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

suddenly  she  would  find  his  eyes  upon  he* 
with  a  light  in  them  so  tender,  so  yearning, 
that  she  would  droop  her  own  in  confusion 
and  feel  her  heart  beating  wildly  with  the 
pleasure  and  the  pain  of  it. 

About  noon  they  came  to  a  rain-water 
hole  near  which  were  three  Indian  hogans. 
Brownleigh  explained  that  he  had  come  this 
way,  a  little  out  of  the  shortest  trail,  hoping 
to  get  another  horse  so  that  they  might 
travel  faster  and  reach  the  railroad  before 
sundown. 

The  girl's  heart  went  suddenly  heavy  as 
he  left  her  sitting  on  Billy  under  a  cotton- 
wood  tree  while  he  went  forward  to  find  out 
if  any  one  was  at  home  and  whether  they 
had  a  horse  to  spare.  Of  course  she  wanted 
to  find  her  friends  and  relieve  their  anxiety 
as  soon  as  possible,  but  there  was  something 
in  the  voice  of  the  young  missionary  as  he 
spoke  of  hastening  onward  that  seemed  to 
build  a  wall  between  them.  The  pleasant 
intercourse  of  the  morning  seemed  drawing 
so  quickly  to  a  close :  the  wonderful  sym 
pathy  and  interest  between  them  pushed 
with  a  violent  hand  out  of  her  reach.  She 
felt  a  choking  sensation  in  her  throat  as  if 
she  would  like  to  put  her  head  down  on 
rough  neck-locks  and  sob. 


REVELATION  127 

She  tried  to  reason  with  herself.  It  was 
but  a  little  over  twenty-four  hours  since  she 
first  looked  upon  this  stranger,  and  yet  her 
heart  was  bound  to  him  in  such  a  way  that 
she  was  dreading  their  separation.  How 
could  it  be  ?  Such  things  were  not  real. 
People  always  laughed  at  sudden  love  affairs 
as  if  they  were  impossible,  but  her  heart  told 
her  that  it  was  not  merely  hours  by  which 
they  numbered  their  acquaintance.  The  soul 
of  this  man  had  been  revealed  to  her  in  that 
brief  space  of  time  as  another's  might  not 
have  been  in  years.  She  dreaded  the 
ending  of  this  companionship.  It  would 
be  the  end,  of  course.  He  had  said  it,  and 
she  knew  his  words  were  true.  His  world 
was  not  her  world,  more  the  pity  !  He  would 
never  give  up  his  world,  and  he  had  said  she 
was  unfitted  for  his.  It  was  all  too  true — 
this  world  of  rough,  uncouth  strangers,  and 
wild  emptiness  of  beauty.  But  how  she 
longed  to  have  this  day  with  him  beside  her 
prolonged  indefinitely  ! 

The  vision  would  fade  of  course  when  she 
got  back  into  the  world  again,  and  things 
would  assume  their  normal  proportions  very 
likely.  But  just  now  she  admitted  to  herself 
that  she  did  not  want  to  get  back.  She 
would  be  entirely  content  if  she  might  wan- 


128    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

der  thus  with  him  in  the  desert  for  the  rest 
of  her  natural  life. 

He  came  back  to  her  presently  accom 
panied  by  an  Indian  boy  carrying  an  iron 
pot  and  some  fresh  mutton.  Hazel  watched 
them  as  they  built  a  fire,  arranged  the  pot 
full  of  water  to  boil,  and  placed  the  meat  to 
roast.  The  missionary  was  making  corn 
cake  which  presently  was  baking  in  the 
ashes,  and  giving  forth  a  savoury  odour. 

An  Indian  squaw  appeared  in  the  doorway 
of  one  of  the  hogans,  her  baby  strapped  to 
her  back,  and  watched  her  with  great  round 
wondering  eyes.  Hazel  smiled  at  the  little 
papoose,  and  it  soon  dimpled  into  an  answer 
ing  smile.  Then  she  discovered  that  the 
missionary  was  watching  them  both,  his 
heart  in  his  eyes,  a  strange  wonderful  joy  in 
his  face,  and  her  heart-beats  quickened.  She 
was  pleasing  him  !  It  was  then  as  she  smiled 
back  at  the  child  of  the  forest  that  she  dis 
covered  an  interest  of  her  own  in  these  neg 
lected  people  of  his.  She  could  not  know 
that  the  little  dark-skinned  baby  whom  she, 
had  noticed  would  from  this  time  forth 
become  the  special  tender  object  of  care 
from  the  missionary,  just  because  she  had 
noticed  it. 

They  had  a  merry  meal,  though  not  so  in* 


REVELATION  129 

timate  as  the  others  had  been  ;  for  a  group 
of  Indian  women  and  children  huddled  out 
side  the  nearest  hogan  watching  their  every 
move  with  wide  staring  eyes,  and  stolid  but 
interested  countenances ;  and  the  little  boy 
hovered  not  far  away  to  bring  anything  they 
might  need.  It  was  all  pleasant  but  Hazel 
felt  impatient  of  the  interruption  when  their 
time  together  was  now  so  short.  She  was 
glad  when,  mounted  on  Billy  again,  and  her 
companion  on  a  rough  little  Indian  pony 
with  wicked  eyes,  they  rode  awey  together 
into  the  sunshine  of  the  afternoon. 

But  now  it  seemed  but  a  breathless  space 
before  they  would  come  into  the  presence  of 
people,  for  the  two  horses  made  rapid  time, 
and  the  distances  flew  past  them  mile  by 
mile,  the  girl  feeling  each  moment  more  shy 
and  embarrassed,  and  conscious  of  the  words 
she  had  overheard  in  the  early  morning. 

It  seemed  to  her  a  burden  she  could  not 
carry  away  unknown  upon  her  soul  and  yet 
how  could  she  let  him  know  * 


VIII 

RENUNCIATION 

THEY  had  entered  a  strip  of  silvery 
sand,  about    two    miles  wide,  and 
rode  almost  in  silence,  for  a  singular 
shyness  had  settled  upon  them. 

The  girl  was  conscious  of  his  eyes  upon 
her  with  a  kind  of  tender  yearning  as  if  he 
would  impress  the  image  on  his  mind  for  the 
time  when  she  would  be  with  him  no  more. 
Each  had  a  curious  sense  of  understanding 
the  other's  thoughts,  and  needing  no  words. 
But  as  they  neared  a  great  rustling  stretch 
of  corn  he  looked  at  her  keenly  again  and 
spoke : 

"  You  are  very  tired,  I'm  sure."  It  was 
not  a  question  but  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  deny 
it,  and  a  flood-tide  of  sweet  colour  swept  over 
ine  cheeks.  "  I  knew  it,"  he  said,  searching 
her  raised  eyes.  "  We  must  stop  and  rest 
after  we  have  passed  through  this  corn. 
There  is  a  spot  under  some  trees  where  you 
will  be  sheltered  from  the  sun.  This  corn 
lasts  onfy  a  mile  or  so  more,  and  after  you 


RENUNCIATION  131 

have  rested  we  will  have  only  a  short  distance 
to  go " —  he  caught  his  breath  as  though 
the  words  hurt  him — "  our  journey  is  almost 
over ! "  They  rode  in  silence  through  the 
corn,  but  when  it  was  passed  and  they  were 
seated  beneath  the  trees  the  girl  lifted  her 
eyes  to  him  filled  with  unspeakable  things. 

"  I  haven't  known  how  to  thank  you,"  she 
said  earnestly,  the  tears  almost  in  evidence. 

"  Don't,  please  ! "  he  said  gently.  "  It  has 
been  good  to  me  to  be  with  you.  How  good 
you  never  can  know."  He  paused  and 
then  looked  keenly  at  her. 

"  Did  you  rest  well  last  night,  your  first 
night  under  the  stars?  Did  you  hear  the 
coyotes,  or  feel  at  all  afraid  ?  " 

Her  colour  fled,  and  she  dropped  her 
glance  to  Billy's  neck,  while  her  heart 
throbbed  painfully. 

He  saw  how  disturbed  she  was. 

"You  were  afraid,"  he  charged  gently. 
*  Why  didn't  you  call  ?  I  was  close  at  hand 
all  the  time.  What  frightened  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing  !  "  she  said  evasively* 
*'  It  was  only  for  a  minute." 

"  Tell  me,  please !"  his  voice  compelled  her. 

"  It  was  just  for  a  minute,"  she  said  again, 
speaking  rapidly  and  trying  to  hide  her  em 
barrassment.  "  I  woke  and  thought  I  heard 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

talking  and  you  were  not  in  sight ;  but  it 
was  not  long  before  you  came  back  with 
an  armful  of  wood,  and  I  saw  it  was  almost 
morning." 

Her  cheeks  were  rosy,  as  she  lifted  her 
clear  eyes  to  meet  his  searching  gaze  and 
tried  to  face  him  steadily,  but  he  looked  into 
the  very  depths  of  her  soul  and  saw  the 
truth.  She  felt  her  courage  going  from  her, 
and  tried  to  turn  her  gaze  carelessly  away, 
but  could  not. 

At  last  he  said  in  a  low  voice  full  of  feeling : 

"  You  heard  me  ?  " 

Her  eyes,  which  he  had  held  with  his  look, 
wavered,  faltered,  and  drooped.  "I  was 
afraid,"  he  said  as  her  silence  confirmed  his 
conviction.  "  I  heard  some  one  stirring.  I 
looked  and  thought  I  saw  you  going  back  to 
your  couch."  There  was  grave  self-reproach 
in  his  tone,  but  no  reproach  for  her.  Never 
theless  her  heart  burned  with  shame  and  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  hid  her  glowing 
face  in  her  hands  and  cried  out : 

"I  am  so  sorry.  I  did  not  mean  to  be 
listening.  I  thought  from  the  tone  of  your 
voice  you  were  in  trouble.  I  was  afraid 
some  one  had  attacked  you,  and  perhaps  1 
could  do  something  to  help " 

"  You  poor  child  !  "  he  said  deeply  moved 


RENUNCIATION  133 

"  How  unpardonable  of  me  to  frighten  you. 
It  is  my  habit  of  talking  aloud  when  I  am 
alone.  The  great  loneliness  out  here  has 
cultivated  it.  I  did  not  realize  that  I  might 
disturb  you.  What  must  you  think  of  me  ? 
What  can  you  think  ?  " 

"  Think ! "  she  burst  forth  softly.  "  I  think 
/ou  are  all  wrong  to  try  to  keep  a  thing  like 
that  to  yourself ! " 

And  then  the  full  meaning  of  what  she  had 
said  broke  upon  her,  and  her  face  crimsoned 
with  embarrassment. 

But  he  was  looking  at  her  with  an  eager 
light  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Won't 
you  please  explain  ?  " 

Hazel  was  sitting  now  with  her  face 
entirely  turned  away,  and  the  soft  hair  blow 
ing  concealingly  about  her  burning  cheeks. 
She  felt  as  if  she  must  get  up  and  run  away 
into  the  desert  and  end  this  terrible  conversa 
tion.  She  was  getting  in  deeper  and  deeper 
every  minute. 

"  Please  ! "  said  the  gentle,  firm  voice. 

"Why,  I  —  think — a — a — woman — has  a 
right—to  know— a  thing  like  that !  "  she  fal 
tered  desperately. 

"Why?"  asked  the  voice  again  after  a 
paup* 


134    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Because — she — she — might  not  ever—* 
she  might  not  ever  know  there  was  such  a 
love  for  a  woman  in  the  world ! "  she  stam 
mered,  still  with  her  head  turned  quite  away 
from  him.  She  felt  that  she  could  never  turn 
around  and  face  this  wonderful  man  of  the 
desert  again.  She  wished  the  ground  would 
open  and  show  her  some  comfortable  way  of 
escape. 

The  pause  this  time  was  long,  so  long  that 
it  frightened  her,  but  she  dared  not  turn  and 
look  at  him.  If  she  had  done  so  she  would 
have  seen  that  he  was  sitting  with  bowed 
head  for  some  time,  in  deep  meditation,  and 
that  at  last  he  lifted  his  glance  to  the  sky 
again  as  if  to  ask  a  swift  permission.  Then 
he  spoke. 

"  A  man  has  no  right  to  tell  a  woman  he 
loves  her  when  he  cannot  ask  her  to  marry 
him." 

"That,"  said  the  girl,  her  throat  throb 
bing  painfully,  "  that  has  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  I — was — not  talking  about — marry* 
ing !  But  I  think  she  has  a  right  to  know. 
It  would — make  a  difference  all  her  life ! " 
Her  throat  was  dry  and  throbbing.  The 
words  seemed  to  stick  as  she  tried  to  utter 
them,  yet  they  would  be  said.  She  longed 
to  hide  her  burning  face  in  some  cool  shekel 


RENUNCIATION  135 

and  get  away  from  this  terrible  talk,  but  she 
could  only  sit  rigidly  quiet,  her  fingers 
fastened  tensely  in  the  coarse  grass  at  her 
side. 

There  was  a  longer  silence  now,  and  still 
she  dared  not  look  at  the  man. 

A  great  eagle  appeared  in  the  heaven 
above  and  sailed  swiftly  and  strongly  towards 
a  mountain  peak.  Hazel  had  a  sense  of  her 
own  smallness,  and  of  the  fact  that  her  words 
had  made  an  exquisite  anguish  for  the  soul 
of  her  companion,  yet  she  could  not  think  of 
anything  to  say  that  would  better  matters. 
At  last  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  was  like  one 
performing  a  sad  and  sacred  rite  for  one 
tenderly  beloved : 

"  And  now  that  you  know  I  love  you  can 
it  possibly  make  any  difference  to  you?" 

Hazel  tried  three  times  to  answer,  but 
every  time  her  trembling  lips  would  frame  no 
words.  Then  suddenly  her  face  went  into 
her  hands  and  the  tears  came.  She  felt  as  if 
a  benediction  had  been  laid  upon  her  head, 
and  the  glory  of  it  was  greater  than  she  could 
bear. 

The  man  watched  her,  his  arms  longing  to 
enfold  her  and  soothe  her  agitation,  but  he 
would  not.  His  heart  was  on  fire  with  the 
sweetness  and  the  pain  of  the  present  mo 


136    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

ment,  yet  he  could  not  take  advantage  of  theh 
situation  upon  the  lonely  plain,  and  desecrate 
the  beauty  of  the  trust  she  had  put  upon  him. 

Then  her  strength  came  again,  and  she 
raised  her  head  and  looked  into  his  waiting 
eyes  with  a  trembling,  shy  glance,  yet  true 
and  earnest. 

"  It  will  make  a  difference — to  me !  "  she 
said.  "I  shall  never  feel  quite  the  same 
towards  life  again  because  I  know  there  is 
such  a  wonderful  man  in  the  world." 

She  had  fine  control  of  her  voice  now,  and 
was  holding  back  the  tears.  Her  manner  of 
the  world  was  coming  to  her  aid.  He  must 
not  see  how  much  this  was  to  her,  how  very 
much.  She  put  out  a  little  cold  hand  and 
laid  it  timidly  in  his  big  brown  one,  and  he 
held  it  a  moment  and  looked  down  at  it  in 
great  tenderness,  closed  his  fingers  over  it  in 
a  strong  clasp,  then  laid  it  gently  back  in  hei 
lap  as  though  it  were  too  precious  to  keep. 
Her  heart  thrilled  and  thrilled  again  at  his 
touch. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  simply,  a  great 
withdrawing  in  his  tone.  "  But  I  cannot  see 
how  you  can  think  well  of  me.  I  am  an  utter 
stranger  to  you.  I  have  no  right  to  talk  of 
such  things  to  you." 

"  You  did  not  tell  me,"  answered  Hazel 


RENUNCIATION  237 

"  You  told — God/'  Her  voice  was  slow  and 
low  with  awe.  "  I  only  overheard.  It  was 
my  fault — but — I  am  not — sorry.  It  was  a 
great — thing  to  hear  1 " 

He  watched  her  shy  dignity  as  she  talked, 
her  face  drooping  and  half  turned  away. 
She  was  exquisitely  beautiful  in  her  confu 
sion.  His  whole  spirit  yearned  towards  hers. 

"  I  feel  like  a  monster,"  he  said  suddenly. 
"  You  know  I  love  you,  but  you  do  not  under 
stand  how,  in  this  short  time  even,  you  have 
filled  my  life,  my  whole  being.  And  yet  I  may 
not  ever  try  or  hope  to  win  your  love  in  re 
turn.  It  must  seem  strange  to  you " 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  she  said  in  a 
low  voice ;  "  you  spoke  of  all  that  in  the 
night — you  know."  It  seemed  as  if  she 
shrank  from  hearing  it  again. 

"  Will  you  let  me  explain  it  thoroughly  to 
you?" 

"  If — you  think  best."  She  turned  her  face 
away  and  watched  the  eagle,  now  a  mere 
speck  in  the  distance. 

"  You  see  it  is  this  way.  I  am  not  free  to 
do  as  I  might  wish — as  other  men  are  free. 
I  have  consecrated  my  life  to  the  service  of 
God  in  this  place.  I  know — I  knew  when  I 
came  here — that  it  was  no  place  to  bring  a 
woman.  There  are  few  who  could  stand  the 


138    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

fife.  It  is  filled  with  privations  and  hard 
ships.  They  are  inevitable.  You  are  used  to 
tender  care  and  luxury.  No  man  could  ask  a 
sacrifice  like  that  of  a  woman  he  loved.  He 
jwould  not  be  a  man  if  he  did.  It  is  not  like 
marrying  a  girl  who  has  felt  the  call  herself, 
and  loves  to  give  her  life  to  the  work.  That 
would  be  a  different  matter.  But  a  man  has  no 

right  to  expect  it  of  a  woman "  he  paused 

to  find  the  right  words  and  Hazel  in  a  small 
still  voice  of  dignity  reminded  him  : 

"  You  are  forgetting  one  of  the  reasons." 

"  Forgetting  ?  "  he  turned  towards  her  won- 
deringly  and  their  eyes  met  for  just  an  in 
stant,  then  hers  were  turned  away  again. 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on  inscrutably.  "  You 
thought  I— was  not — fit !  " 

She  was  pulling  up  bits  of  green  from  the 
ground  beside  her.  She  felt  a  frightened 
flutter  in  her  throat.  It  was  the  point  of  the 
thorn  that  had  remained  in  her  heart.  It  was 
not  in  nature  for  her  not  to  speak  of  it,  yet 
when  it  was  spoken  she  felt  how  it  might  be 
misunderstood. 

But  the  missionary  made  answer  in  a  kind 
of  cry  like  some  hurt  creature. 

"  Not  fit !  Oh,  my  dear !  You  do  not 
understand " 

There  was  that  in  his  tone  that  extracted 


RENUNCIATION  139 

the  last  bit  of  rankling  thorn  from  Hazel's 
heart  and  brought  the  quick  blood  to  her 
cheeks  again. 

With  a  light  laugh  that  echoed  with  relief 
and  a  deep  new  joy  which  she  dared  not 
face  as  yet,  she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  understand,"  she  said  gaily, 
"  and  it's  all  true.  I'm  not  a  bit  fit  for  a  mis 
sionary.  But  oughtn't  we  to  be  moving  on? 
I'm  quite  rested  now." 

With  a  face  that  was  grave  to  sadness  he 
acquiesced,  fastening  the  canvas  in  place  on 
the  saddle,  and  putting  her  on  her  horse 
with  swift,  silent  movements.  Then  as  she 
gathered  up  the  reins  he  lingered  for  an  in 
stant  and  taking  the  hem  of  her  gown  in 
his  fingers  he  stooped  and  touched  his  lips 
lightly,  reverently  to  the  cloth. 

There  was  something  so  humble,  so 
pathetic,  so  self-forgetful  in  the  homage  that 
the  tears  sprang  to  the  girl's  eyes  and  she 
longed  to  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
draw  his  face  close  to  hers  and  tell  him  how 
her  heart  was  throbbing  in  sympathy. 

But  he  had  not  even  asked  for  her  love, 
and  there  must  be  silence  between  them.  He 
had  shown  that  it  was  the  only  way.  Her 
own  reserve  closed  her  lips  and  commanded 
that  she  show  no  sign. 


140    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

And  now  they  rode  on  silently  for  the  most 
part,  the  horses'  hoofs  beating  rapidly  in 
unison,  Now  and  then  a  rabbit  scuttled  on 
ahead  of  them  or  a  horned  toad  hopped  out 
of  their  path.  Short  brown  lizards  palpitated 
on  bits  of  wood  along  the  way  ;  now  and 
then  a  bright  green  one  showed  itself  and 
disappeared.  Once  they  came  upon  a  village 
of  prairie  dogs  and  paused  to  watch  their 
antics  for  a  moment.  It  was  then  •  as  they 
turned  away  that  she  noticed  the  bit  of  green 
he  had  stuck  in  his  buttonhole  and  recog 
nized  it  for  the  same  that  she  had  played 
with  as  they  talked  by  the  wayside.  Her 
eyes  charged  him  with  having  picked  it  up 
afterwards  and  his  eyes  replied  with  the  truth, 
but  they  said  no  words  about  it.  They  did 
not  need  words. 

It  was  not  until  they  reached  the  top  of  a 
sloping  hill,  and  suddenly  came  upon  the 
view  of  the  valley  with  its  winding  track 
gleaming  in  the  late  afternoon  sun,  the  little 
wooden  station  and  few  cabins  dotted  here 
and  there,  that  she  suddenly  realized  that 
their  journey  together  was  at  an  end,  for  this 
was  the  place  from  which  she  had  started  two 
days  before. 

He  had  no  need  to  tell  her.  She  saw  the 
smug  red  gleam  of  their  own  private  cat 


RENUNCIATION  141 

standing  on  the  track  not  far  away.  She  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  fact  that  her 
friends  were  down  there  in  the  valley  and  all 
the  stiff  conventionalities  of  her  life  stood 
ready  to  build  a  wall  between  this  man  and 
herself.  They  would  sweep  him  out  of  her 
life  as  if  she  had  never  met  him,  never  been 
found  and  saved  by  him,  and  carry  her  away 
to  their  tiresome  round  of  parties  and  pleasure 
excursions  again. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  with  a  frightened,  al 
most  pleading  glance  as  if  for  a  moment  she 
would  ask  him  to  turn  with  her  back  to  the 
desert  again.  She  found  his  eyes  upon  her 
in  a  long  deep  gaze  of  farewell,  as  one  looks 
upon  the  face  of  a  beloved  soon  to  be  parted 
from  earth.  She  could  not  bear  the  blinding 
of  the  love  she  saw  there,  and  her  own  heart 
leaped  up  anew  to  meet  it  in  answering  love. 

But  it  was  only  this  one  flash  of  a  glance 
they  had,  when  they  were  aware  of  voices 
and  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  almost 
instantly  around  the  clump  of  sage-brush  be 
low  the  trail  there  swept  into  sight  tihree 
horsemen,  Shag  Bunce,  an  Indian,  and 
Hazel's  brother.  They  were  talking  excit 
edly,  and  evidently  starting  out  on  a  new 
search. 

The    missionary   with   quick  presence  of 


142    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

mind  started  the  horses  on,  shouting  out  a 
greeting,  and  was  answered  with  instant 
cheers  from  the  approaching  party,  followed 
by  shots  from  Shag  Bunce  in  signal  that  the 
lost  was  found ;  shots  which  immediately 
seemed  to  echo  from  the  valley  and  swell 
into  shouting  and  rejoicing. 

Then  all  was  confusion  at  once. 

The  handsome,  reckless  brother  with  gold 
hair  like  Hazel's  embraced  her,  talking  loud 
and  eagerly  ;  showing  how  he  had  done  this 
and  that  to  find  her ;  blaming  the  country, 
the  horses,  the  guides,  the  roads  ;  and  paying 
little  heed  to  the  missionary  who  instantly 
dropped  behind  to  give  him  his  place.  It 
seemed  but  a  second  more  before  they  were 
surrounded  with  eager  people  all  talking  at 
once,  and  Hazel,  distressed  that  her  brother 
gave  so  little  attention  to  the  man  who  had 
saved  her,  sought  thrice  to  make  some  sort 
of  an  introduction,  but  the  brother  was  too 
much  taken  up  with  excitement,  and  with 
scolding  his  sister  for  having  gotten  herself 
lost,  to  take  it  in. 

Then  out  came  the  father,  who,  it  appeared, 
had  been  up  two  nights  on  the  search,  and 
had  been  taking  a  brief  nap.  His  face  was 
pale  and  haggard.  Brownleigh  liked  the 
look  of  his  eyes  as  he  caught  sight  of  his 


RENUNCIATION  143 

daughter,  and  his  face  lighted  as  he  saw  her 
spring  into  his  arms,  crying :  "  Daddy ! 
Daddy  !  I'm  so  sorry  I  frightened  you  1 " 

Behind  him,  tall  and  disapproving,  with  an 
I-told-you-so  in  her  eye,  stood  Aunt  Maria, 

"  Headstrong  girl,"  she  murmured  severely. 
"  You  have  given  us  all  two  terrible  days  ! " 
and  she  pecked  Hazel's  cheek  stiffly.  But 
no  one  heard  her  in  the  excitement. 

Behind  Aunt  Maria  Hazel's  maid  wrung 
her  hands  and  wept  in  a  kind  of  hysterical 
joy  over  her  mistress'  return,  and  back  of  her 
in  the  gloom  of  the  car  vestibule  loomed  the 
dark  countenance  of  Hamar  with  an  angry, 
red  mark  across  one  cheek.  He  did  not  look 
particularly  anxious  to  be  there.  The  mis 
sionary  turned  from  his  evil  face  with  re 
pulsion. 

In  the  confusion  and  delight  over  the  re 
turn  of  the  lost  one  the  man  of  the  desert 
prepared  to  slip  away,  but  just  as  he  was 
about  to  mount  his  pony  Hazel  turned  and 
saw  him. 

"  Daddy,  come  over  here  and  speak  to  the 
man  who  found  me  and  brought  me  safely 
back  again,"  she  said,  dragging  her  father 
eagerly  across  the  platform  to  where  the  mis* 
sionary  stood. 

The  father  came  readily  enough  and  Hazel 


144    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

talked  rapidly,  her  eyes  shining,  her  cheeks 
like  twin  roses,  telling  in  a  breath  of  the 
horrors  and  darkness  and  rescue,  and  the 
thoughtfulness  of  her  stranger-rescuer. 

Mr.  Radcliffe  came  forward  with  out 
stretched  hand  to  greet  him,  and  the  mis 
sionary  took  off  his  hat  and  stood  with  easy 
grace  to  shake  hands.  He  was  not  conscious 
then  of  the  fire  of  eyes  upon  him,  cold  society 
stares  from  Aunt  Maria,  Hamar  and  young 
Radcliffe,  as  if  to  say,  How  dared  he  presume 
to  expect  recognition  for  doing  what  was  a 
simple  duty  1  He  noted  only  the  genuine 
heartiness  in  the  face  of  the  father  as  he 
chanked  him  for  what  he  had  done.  Then, 
like  the  practical  man  of  the  world  that  he 
was,  Mr.  Radcliffe  reached  his  hand  into 
his  pocket  and  drew  out  his  check  book  re 
marking,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  course, 
that  he  wished  to  reward  his  daughter's 
rescuer  handsomely,  and  inquiring  his  name 
as  he  pulled  off  the  cap  from  his  fountain 
pen. 

Brownleigh  stood  back  stiffly  with  a 
heightened  colour,  and  an  almost  haughty 
look  upon  his  face. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  coldly,  "  I  could  not 
think  of  taking  anything  for  a  mere  act  of 
humanity.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to 


RENUNCIATION  145 

serve  your  daughter,"  and  he  swung  himself 
easily  into  the  saddle. 

But  Mr.  Radcliffe  was  unaccustomed  to 
such  independence  in  those  who  served  him 
and  he  began  to  bluster.  Hazel,  however, 
her  cheeks  fairly  blazing,  her  eyes  filled  with 
mortification,  put  a  hand  upon  her  father's 
arm. 

"  Daddy,  you  don't  understand,"  she  said 
earnestly ;  "  my  new  friend  is  a  clergyman 
— he  is  a  missionary,  daddy  ! " 

"  Nonsense,  daughter  I  You  don't  under 
stand  these  matters.  Just  wait  until  I  am 
through.  I  cannot  let  a  deed  like  this  go 
unrewarded.  A  missionary,  did  you  say? 
Then  if  you  won't  take  anything  for  yourself 
take  it  for  your  church ;  it's  all  the  same  in 
the  end,"  and  he  gave  a  knowing  wink 
towards  the  missionary  whose  anger  was 
rising  rapidly,  and  who  was  having  much 
ado  to  keep  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit. 

"  Thank  you !  "  he  said  again  coldly,  "  not 
for  any  such  service." 

"  But  I  mean  it !  "  grumbled  the  elder  man 
much  annoyed.  "  I  want  to  donate  some* 
thing  to  a  cause  that  employs  a  man  like 
you.  It  is  a  good  to  the  country  at  large  to 
have  such  men  patrolling  the  deserts.  I 
never  thought  there  was  much  excuse  for 


146    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Home  Missions,  but  after  this  I  shall  give  H 
my  hearty  approval.  It  makes  the  country 
safer  for  tourists.  Come,  tell  me  your  name 
and  I'll  write  out  a  check.  I'm  in  earnest." 

"  Send  any  contribution  you  wish  to  make 
to  the  general  fund,"  said  Brownleigh  with 
dignity,  mentioning  the  address  of  the  New 
York  Board  under  whose  auspices  he  was 
sent  out,  "but  don't  mention  me,  please." 
Then  he  lifted  his  hat  once  more  and  would 
have  ridden  away  but  for  the  distress  in 
Hazel's  eyes. 

Just  then  the  brother  created  a  digression  by 
rushing  up  to  his  father.  "  Dad,  Aunt  Maria 
wants  to  know  if  we  can't  go  on,  with  this 
train.  It's  in  sight  now,  and  she  is  nearly 
crazy  to  get  on  the  move.  There's  nothing 
to  hinder  our  being  hitched  on,  is  there? 
The  agent  has  the  order.  Do,  dad,  let's  get 
out  of  this.  I'm  sick  of  it,  and  Aunt  Maria 
is  unbearable ! " 

"  Yes,  certainly,  certainly,  Arthur,  speak  to 
the  agent.  We'll  go  on  at  once.  Excuse 

me,  Mr. Ah,  what  did  you  say  was  the 

name  ?  I'm  sorry  you  feel  that  way  about 
it;  though  it's  very  commendable,  very 
commendable,  I'm  sure.  I'll  send  to  New 
York  at  once.  Fifth  Avenue,  did  you  say  ? 
I'll  speak  a  good  word  for  you.  Excuse  me 


RENUNCIATION  147 

The  agent  is  beckoning  me.  Well,  good 
bye,  and  thank  you  again  1  Daughter,  you 
better  get  right  into  the  car.  The  train  is 
almost  here,  and  they  may  have  no  time  to 
spare,"  and  Mr.  Radcliffe  hastened  up  the 
platform  after  his  son  and  the  agent 


"FOR  REMEMBRANCE" 

HAZEL  turned  her  troubled  eyes  to 
the    face   of    the   man   pleadingly 
"  My  father  does  not  understand/' 
she  said  apologetically.     "  He  is  very  grate 
ful  and  he  is  used  to  thinking  that  money 
can  always  show  gratitude." 

Brownleigh  was  off  his  horse  beside  her, 
his  hat  off,  before  she  had  finished  speaking. 

"  Don't,  I  beg  of  you,  think  of  it  again,"  he 
pleaded,  his  eyes  devouring  her  face.  "  Jt  is 
all  right.  I  quite  understand.  And  you 
understand  too,  I  am  sure." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  she  said,  lifting  her 
eyes  full  of  the  love  she  had  not  dared  to  let 
him  see.  She  was  fidgetting  with  her  rings 
as  she  spoke  and  looked  back  anxiously  at 
the  onrushing  train.  Her  brother,  hurrying 
down  the  platform  to  their  car,  called  to  her 
to  hasten  as  he  passed  her,  and  she  knew 
she  would  be  allowed  but  a  moment  more 
She  caught  her  breath  and  looked  at  the  talf 
missionary  wistfully. 

148 


"  FOR  REMEMBRANCE  "         149 

"  You  will  let  me  leave  something  of  my 
own  with  you,  just  for  remembrance  ?  "  she 
asked  eagerly. 

His  eyes  grew  tender  and  misty. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  his  voice  suddenly 
husky,  "  though  I  shall  need  nothing  to  re 
member  you  by.  I  can  never  forget  you." 
The  memory  of  that  look  of  his  eyes  was 
meat  and  drink  to  her  soul  during  many 
days  that  followed,  but  she  met  it  now 
steadily,  not  even  flushing  at  her  open  recog 
nition  of  his  love. 

"  This  is  mine,"  she  said.  "  My  father 
bought  it  for  me  when  I  was  sixteen.  I 
have  worn  it  ever  since.  He  will  never 
care."  She  slipped  a  ring  from  her  finger 
and  dropped  it  in  his  palm. 

"  Hurry  up  there,  sister ! "  called  young 
Radcliffe  once  more  from  the  car  window, 
and  looking  up,  Brownleigh  saw  the  evil  face 
of  Hamar  peering  from  another  window. 

Hazel  turned,  struggling  to  keep  back  the 
rising  tears.  "  I  must  go,"  she  gasped. 

Brownleigh  flung  the  reins  of  the  pony  to 
a  young  Indian  who  stood  near  and  turning 
walked  beside  her,  conscious  the  while  of  the 
frowning  faces  watching  them  from  the  car 
windows. 

"  And  I  have  nothing  to  give  you,"  he  said 


ISO    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  her  in  a  low  tone,  deeply  moved  at  what 
she  had  done. 

"  Will  you  let  me  have  the  little  book  ?  " 
she  asked  shyly. 

His  eyes  lit  with  a  kind  of  glory  as  he  fell 
in  his  pocket  for  his  Bible. 

"  It  is  the  best  thing  I  own,"  he  said. 
"  May  it  bring  you  the  same  joy  and  com 
fort  it  has  often  brought  to  me."  And  he 
put  the  little  book  in  her  hand. 

The  train  backed  crashing  up  and  jarred 
into  the  private  car  with  a  snarling,  grating 
sound.  Brownleigh  put  Hazel  on  the  steps 
and  helped  her  up.  Her  father  was  hurry 
ing  towards  them  and  some  train  hands  were 
making  a  great  fuss  shouting  directions. 
There  was  just  an  instant  for  a  hand-clasp, 
and  then  he  stepped  back  to  the  platform, 
and  her  father  swung  himself  on,  as  the  train 
moved  off.  She  stood  on  the  top  step  of  the 
car,  her  eyes  upon  his  face,  and  his  upon  hers, 
his  hat  lifted  in  homage,  and  renunciation 
upon  his  brow  as  though  it  were  a  crown. 

It  was  the  voice  of  her  Aunt  Maria  that 
recalled  her  to  herself,  while  the  little  station 
with  its  primitive  setting,  its  straggling  on 
lookers  and  its  one  great  man,  slipped  past 
and  was  blurred  into  the  landscape  by  the 
tears  which  she  could  not  keep  back. 


-  FOR  REMEMBRANCE  "        151 

**  Hazel !  For  pity's  sake !  Don't  stand 
mooning  and  gazing  at  that  rude  creature 
any  longer.  We'll  have  you  falling  off  the 
train  and  being  dramatically  rescued  again 
for  the  delectation  of  the  natives.  I'm  sure 
you've  made  disturbance  enough  for  one 
trip,  and  you'd  better  come  in  and  try  to 
make  amends  to  poor  Mr.  Hamar  for  what 
you  have  made  him  suffer  with  your  foolish 
persistence  in  going  off  on  a  wild  western 
pony  that  ran  away.  You  haven't  spoken  to 
Mr.  Hamar  yet.  Perhaps  you  don't  know 
that  he  risked  his  life  for  you  trying  to  catch 
your  horse  and  was  thrown  and  kicked  in 
the  face  by  his  own  wretched  little  beast,  and 
left  lying  unconscious  for  hours  on  the  desert, 
until  an  Indian  came  along  and  picked  him 
up  and  helped  him  back  to  the  station." 
(As  a  matter  of  fact  Milton  Hamar  had 
planned  and  enacted  this  touching  drama 
with  the  help  of  a  passing  Indian,  when  he 
found  that  Hazel  was  gone,  leaving  an  ugly 
whip  mark  on  his  cheek  which  must  be  ex 
plained  to  the  family.)  "  He  may  bear  that 
dreadful  scar  for  life  !  He  will  think  you  an 
ungrateful  girl  if  you  don't  go  at  once  and 
make  your  apologies." 

For  answer  Hazel,  surreptitiously  brushing 
away  the  tears,  swept  past  her  aunt  and 


152    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

locked  herself  into  her  own  little  private 
stateroom. 

She  rushed  eagerly  to  the  window  which 
was  partly  open,  guarded  with  a  screen,  and 
pressed  her  face  against  the  upper  part  of  the 
glass.  The  train  had  described  a  curve 
across  the  prairie,  and  the  station  was  still 
visible,  though  far  away.  She  was  sure  she 
could  see  the  tall  figure  of  her  lover  standing 
with  hat  in  hand  watching  her  as  she  passed 
from  his  sight. 

With  quick  impulse  she  caught  up  a  long 
white  crepe  scarf  that  lay  on  her  berth,  and 
snatching  the  screen  from  the  window  flut 
tered  the  scarf  out  to  the  wind.  Almost  in 
stantly  a  flutter  of  white  came  from  the  figure 
on  the  platform,  and  her  heart  quickened 
with  joy.  They  had  sent  a  message  from 
heart  to  heart  across  the  wide  space  of  the 
plains,  and  the  wireless  telegraphy  of  hearts 
was  established.  Great  tears  rushed  to  blot 
the  last  flutter  of  white  from  the  receding 
landscape,  and  then  a  hill  loomed  brilliant  and 
shifting,  and  in  a  moment  more  shut  out  the 
sight  of  station  and  dim  group  and  Hazel 
knew  that  she  was  back  in  the  world  of  com* 
monplace  things  once  more,  with  only  a 
memory  for  her  company,  amid  a  back 
ground  of  unsympathetic  relatives. 


"FOR  REMEMBRANCE"         153 

She  made  her  toilet  in  a  leisurely  way,  for 
she  dreaded  to  have  to  talk  as  she  knew  she 
would,  and  dreaded  still  more  to  meet  Hainan 
But  she  knew  she  must  go  and  tell  her  father 
of  her  experiences,  and  presently  she  came 
out  to  them  fresh  and  beautiful,  with  eyes 
but  the  brighter  for  her  tears,  and  a  soft 
wild-rose  flush  on  her  wind-browned  cheeks 
that  made  her  beauty  all  the  sweeter. 

They  clamoured  at  once,  of  course,  for  all 
the  details  of  her  experience,  and  began  by 
rehearsing  once  more  how  hard  Mr.  Hamar 
had  tried  to  save  her  from  her  terrible  plight, 
risking  his  life  to  stop  her  horse.  Hazel  said 
nothing  to  this,  but  one  steady  clear  look  at 
the  disfigured  face  of  the  man  who  had  made 
them  believe  all  this  was  the  only  recognition 
she  gave  of  his  would-be  heroism.  In  that 
look  she  managed  to  show  her  utter  disbe 
lief  and  contempt,  though  her  Aunt  Maria 
and  perhaps  even  her  father  and  brother 
thought  her  gratitude  too  deep  for  utterance 
before  them  all 

The  girl  passed  over  the  matter  of  the 
lunaway  with  a  brief  word,  saying  that  the 
pony  had  made  up  his  mind  to  run,  and  she 
had  lost  the  bridle,  which  of  course  explained 
her  inability  to  control  him.  She  made  light 
Df  her  ride,  however,  before  her  aunt,  and  told 


154    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  whole  story  most  briefly  until  she  came 
to  the  canyon  and  the  howl  of  the  coyotes. 
She  was  most  warm  in  praise  of  her  rescuer, 
though  here  too  she  used  few  words  and 
avoided  any  description  of  the  ride  back, 
merely  saying  that  the  missionary  had  shewn 
himself  a  gentleman  in  every  particular,  and 
had  given  her  every  care  and  attention  that 
her  own  family  could  have  done  under  the 
circumstances,  making  the  way  pleasant  with 
stories  of  the  country  arid  the  people.  She 
said  that  he  was  a  man  of  unusual  culture 
and  refinement,  she  thought,  and  yet  most 
earnestly  devoted  to  his  work,  and  then  she 
abruptly  changed  the  subject  by  asking  about 
certain  plans  for  their  further  trip  and  seem 
ing  to  have  no  further  interest  in  what  had 
befallen  her ;  but  all  the  while  she  was  con 
scious  of  the  piercing  glance  and  frowning 
visage  of  Milton  Hamar  watching  her,  and 
she  knew  that  as  soon  as  opportunity  offered 
itself  he  would  continue  the  hateful  interview 
begun  on  the  plain.  She  decided  mentally 
that  she  would  avoid  any  such  interview  il 
possible,  and  to  that  end  excused  herself  im 
mediately  after  Ainch  had  been  served,  say 
ing  she  needed  a  good  sleep  to  make  up  for 
the  long  ride  she  had  taken. 

But  it  was  not  to  sleep  that  she  gave  her 


"FOR  REMEMBRANCE"         155 

self  when  she  was  at  last  able  to  take  refuge 
*i  her  little  apartment  again.  She  looked 
out  at  the  passing  landscape,  beautiful  with 
varied  scenery,  all  blurred  with  tears  as  she 
thought  of  how  she  had  but  a  little  while  be 
fore  been  out  in  its  wide  free  distance  with 
one  who  loved  her.  How  that  thought 
thrilled  and  thrilled  her,  and  brought  her  a 
fresh  joy  each  time  it  repeated  itself  1  She 
wondered  over  the  miracle  of  it.  She  never 
had  dreamed  that  love  was  like  this.  She 
scarce  believed  it  now.  She  was  excited, 
stirred  to  the  depths  by  her  unusual  expe 
rience,  put  beyond  the  normal  by  the  strange 
ness  of  the  surroundings  that  had  brought 
this  man  into  her  acquaintance ;  so  said  com 
mon  sense,  and  warned  her  that  to-morrow, 
or  the  next  day,  or  at  most  next  week,  the 
thrill  would  all  be  gone  and  she  would  think 
of  the  stranger  missionary  as  one  curious  de 
tail  of  her  Western  trip.  But  her  heart  re 
sented  this,  and  down,  deep  down,  something 
else  told  her  this  strange  new  joy  would  not 
vanish,  that  it  would  live  throughout  her  life, 
and  that  whatever  in  the  years  came  to  her, 
she  would  always  know  underneath  all  that 
this  had  been  the  real  thing,  the  highest  full 
ness  of  a  perfect  love  for  her. 

As  the  miles  lengthened  and  her  thoughts 


56    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

grew  sad  with  the  distance,  she  drew  from  its 
hiding  place  the  little  book  he  had  given  her 
at  parting.  She  had  slipped  it  into  the  breast 
pocket  of  her  riding  habit  as  she  received  it, 
for  she  shrank  from  having  her  aunt's  keen 
eyes  detect  it  and  question  her.  She  had 
been  too  much  engrossed  with  the  thought  of 
separation  to  remember  it  till  now. 

She  touched  it  tenderly,  shyly,  as  though 
it  were  a  part  of  himself ;  the  limp,  worn 
covers,  the  look  of  constant  use,  all  made  it 
inexpressibly  dear.  She  had  not  known  be 
fore  that  an  inanimate  object,  not  beautiful  in 
itself,  could  bring  such  tender  love. 

Opening  to  the  flyleaf,  there  in  clear,  bold 
writing  was  his  name,  "John  Chadwick 
Brownleigh,"  and  for  the  first  time  she  real 
ized  that  there  had  passed  between  them  no 
word  of  her  name.  Strange  that  they  two 
should  have  come  so  close  as  to  need  no 
names  one  with  the  other.  But  her  heart 
leaped  up  with  joy  that  she  knew  his  name, 
and  her  eyes  dwelt  yearningly  upon  the  writ 
ten  characters.  John  !  How  well  the  name 
fitted  him.  It  seemed  that  she  would  have 
known  it  was  his  even  if  she  had  not  seen  it 
written  first  in  one  of  his  possessions.  Then 
she  fell  to  meditating  whether  he  would  have 
any  way  of  discovering  her  name.  Perhaps 


"FOR  REMEMBRANCE" 

her  father  had  given  it  to  him,  or  the  station 
agent  might  have  known  to  whom  their  car 
belonged.  Of  course  he  would  when  he  re- 
ceived  the  orders, — or  did  they  give  orders 
about  cars  only  by  numbers?  She  wished 
she  dared  ask  some  one.  Perhaps  she  could 
find  out  in  some  way  how  those  orders  were 
written.  And  yet  all  the  time  she  had  an 
instinctive  feeling  that  had  he  known  her 
name  a  thousand  times  he  would  not  have 
communicated  with  her.  She  knew  by  that 
exalted  look  of  renunciation  upon  his  face 
that  no  longing  whatsoever  could  make  him 
overstep  the  bounds  which  he  had  laid  down 
between  her  soul  and  his. 

With  a  sigh  she  opened  the  little  book, 
and  it  fell  apart  of  itself  to  the  place  where 
he  had  read  the  night  before,  the  page  still 
marked  by  the  little  silk  cord  he  had  placed 
so  carefully.  She  could  see  him  now  with 
the  firelight  flickering  on  his  face,  and  the 
moonlight  silvering  his  head,  that  strong 
tender  look  upon  his  face.  How  wonderful 
I  he  had  been  ! 

She  read  the  psalm  over  now  herself,  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  had  ever  consciously 
given  herself  to  reading  the  Bible.  But  there 
was  a  charm  about  the  words  that  gave  them 
new  meaning,  the  charm  of  his  voice  as  she 


158    TtiE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

heard  them  in  memory  and  watched  again 
his  face  change  and  stir  at  the  words  as  he 
read. 

The  day  waned  and  the  train  flew  on,  but 
the  landscape  had  lost  its  attraction  now  for 
the  girl,  She  pleaded  weariness  and  re 
mained  apart  from  the  rest,  dreaming  over 
her  wonderful  experience,  and  thinking  new 
deep  thoughts  of  wonder,  regret,  sadness, 
joy,  and  when  night  fell  and  the  great  moon 
rose  lighting  the  world  again,  she  knelt  be 
side  her  car  window,  looking  long  into  the 
wide  clear  sky,  the  sky  that  covered  him  and 
herself;  the  moon  that  looked  down  upon 
them  botho  Then  switching  on  the  electric 
light  over  her  berth  she  read  the  psalm  once 
more,  and  fell  asleep  with  her  cheek  upon 
the  little  book  and  in  her  heart  a  prayer  for 
him. 

John  Brownleigh,  standing  upon  the  station 
platform,  watching  the  train  disappear  behind 
die  foot-hills,  experienced,  for  the  first  time 
since  his  coming  to  Arizona,  a  feeling  of  the 
utmost  desolation.  Lonely  he  had  been, 
and  homesick,  sometimes,  but  always  with  a 
sense  that  he  was  master  of  it  all,  and  that 
with  the  delight  of  his  work  it  would  pass 
and  leave  him  free  and  glad  in  the  power 
wherewith  his  God  had  called  him  to  the 


"FOR  REMEMBRANCE"         159 

service.  But  now  he  felt  that  with  this  train 
the  light  of  life  was  going  from  him,  and  all 
the  glory  of  Arizona  and  the  world  in  which 
he  had  loved  to  be  was  darkened  on  her  ac 
count.  For  a  moment  or  two  his  soul  cried 
out  that  it  could  not  be,  that  he  must  mount 
some  winged  steed  and  speed  after  her  whom 
his  heart  had  enthroned.  Then  the  wall  of 
the  inevitable  appeared  before  his  eager  eyes, 
and  Reason  crowded  close  to  bring  him  to  his 
senses.  He  turned  away  to  hide  the  emotion 
in  his  face.  The  stolid  Indian  boy,  who  had 
been  holding  both  horses,  received  his  cus 
tomary  smile  and  pleasant  word,  but  the 
missionary  gave  them  more  by  habit  than 
thought  this  time.  His  soul  had  entered  its 
Gethsemane,  and  his  spirit  was  bowed  within 
him. 

As  soon  as  he  could  get  away  from  the 
people  about  the  station  who  had  their  little 
griefs  and  joys  and  perplexities  to  tell  him, 
he  mounted  Billy,  and  leading  the  borrowed 
pony  rode  away  into  the  desert,  retracing  the 
way  they  had  come  together  but  a  short  time 
before. 

Billy  was  tired  and  walked  slowly,  droop 
ing  his  head,  and  his  master  was  sad  at 
heart,  so  there  was  no  cheerful  converse  be 
tween  them  as  they  travelled  along. 


160    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

It  was  not  far  they  went,  only  back  to  the 
edge  of  the  corn,  where  they  had  made  their 
last  stop  of  the  journey  together  a  few  short 
hours  before,  and  here  the  missionary  halted 
and  gave  the  beasts  their  freedom  for  a 
respite  and  refreshment.  He  himself  felt  too 
weary  of  soul  to  go  further. 

He  took  out  the  ring,  the  little  ring  that 
was  too  small  to  go  more  than  half-way  on 
his  smallest  finger,  the  ring  she  had  taken 
warm  and  flashing  from  her  white  hand  and 
laid  within  his  palm  ! 

The  sun  low  down  in  the  west  stole  into 
the  heart  of  the  jewel  and  sent  its  glory  in  a 
million  multicoloured  facets,  piercing  his  soul 
with  the  pain  and  the  joy  of  his  love.  He 
cast  himself  down  upon  the  grass  where  she 
had  sat,  where,  with  his  eyes  closed  and  his 
lips  upon  the  jewel  she  had  worn,  he  met  his 
enemy  and  fought  his  battle  out. 

Wearied  at  last  with  the  contest,  he  slept 
The  sun  went  down,  the  moon  made  itself 
manifest  once  more,  and  when  the  night  went 
coursing  down  its  way  of  silver,  two  jewels 
softly  gleamed  in  its  radiance,  the  one  upon 
his  finger  where  he  had  pressed  her  ring,  the 
^ther  from  the  grass  beside  him.  With  a 
Curious  wonder  he  put  forth  his  hand  to  the 
second  and  found  it  was  the  topaz  set  in  the 


"  FOR  REMEMBRANCE  "         161 

handle  of  her  whip  which  she  had  dropped 
and  forgotten  when  they  sat  together  and 
talked  by  the  way.  He  seized  it  eagerly 
now,  and  gathered  it  to  him.  It  seemed  al 
most  a  message  of  comfort  from  her  he  loved. 
It  was  something  tangible,  this,  and  the  ring. 
to  show  him  he  had  not  dreamed  her  com 
ing  ;  she  had  been  real,  and  she  had  wanted 
him  to  tell  her  of  his  love,  had  said  it  would 
make  a  difference  all  the  rest  of  her  life. 

He  remembered  that  somewhere  he  had 
read  or  heard  a  great  man  say  that  to  be 
worthy  of  a  great  love  one  must  be  able  to 
do  without  it.  Here  now,  then,  he  would 
prove  his  love  by  doing  without.  He  stood 
with  uplifted  face,  transfigured  in  the  light  of 
the  brilliant  night,  with  the  look  of  exalted 
self-surrender,  but  only  his  heart  communed 
that  night,  for  there  were  no  words  on  his 
dumb  lips  to  express  the  fullness  of  his  ab 
negation. 

Then  forth  upon  his  way  he  went,  his  bat 
tle  fought,  the  stronger  for  it,  to  be  a  staff  iof 
other  men  to  lean  upon. 


X 

HIS  MOTHER 

DESERTS    and    mountains    remain 
duties  crowd  and  press,  hearts  ache 
but  the  world  rushes  on.     The  weeks 
that  followed  showed  these  two  that  a  great 
love  is  eternal. 

Brownleigh  did  not  try  to  put  the  thought 
of  it  out  of  his  life,  but  rather  let  it  glorify  the 
common  round.  Day  after  day  passed  and 
he  went  from  post  to  post,  from  hogan  to 
mesa,  and  back  to  his  shanty  again,  always 
with  the  thought  of  her  companionship,  and 
found  it  sweet.  Never  had  he  been  less 
cheery  when  he  met  his  friends,  though  there 
was  a  quiet  dignity,  a  tender  reserve  behind 
it  all  that  a  few  discerning  ones  perceived. 
They  said  at  the  Fort  that  he  was  losing 
flesh,  but  if  so,  he  was  gaining  muscle.  His 
lean  brown  arms  were  never  stronger,  and  his 
fine  strong  face  was  never  sad  when  any  one 
was  by.  It  was  only  in  the  night-time  alone 
upon  the  moonlit  desert,  or  in  his  little  quiet 
dwelling  place  when  he  talked  with  his  Fathee 
162 


HIS  MOTHER  163 

and  told  all  the  loneliness  and  heartache. 
His  people  found  him  more  sympathetic^ 
more  painstaking,  more  tireless  than  evei 
before,  and  the  work  prospered  under  his 
hand. 

The  girl  in  the  city  deliberately  set  herseli 
to  forget. 

The  first  few  days  after  she  left  him  had 
been  a  season  of  ecstatic  joy  mingled  with 
deep  depression,  as  she  alternately  meditated 
upon  the  fact  of  a  great  love,  or  faced  its  im 
possibility. 

She  had  scorched  Milton  Hamar  with  her 
glance  of  aversion,  and  avoided  him  con 
stantly  even  in  the  face  of  protest  from  her 
family,  until  he  had  made  excuse  and  left 
the  party  at  Pasadena.  There,  too,  Aunt 
Maria  had  relieved  them  of  her  annoying 
interference,  and  the  return  trip  taken  by 
the  southern  route  had  been  an  unmolested 
time  for  meditation  for  the  girl.  She  be 
came  daily  more  and  more  dissatisfied  with 
herself  and  her  useless,  ornamental  life. 
Some  days  she  read  the  little  book,  and 
other  days  she  shut  it  away  and  tried  to 
get  back  to  her  former  life,  telling  herself 
k  was  useless  to  attempt  to  change  herself. 
She  had  found  that  the  little  book  gave  her 
a  deep  unrest  and  a  sense  that  life  held 


164    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

graver,  sweeter  things  than  just  living  to 
please  one's  self.  She  began  to  long  for 
home,  and  the  summer  round  of  gaieties, 
with  which  to  fill  the  emptiness  of  her  heart. 

As  the  summer  advanced  there  was  almost 
a  recklessness  sometimes  about  the  way  she 
planned  to  have  a  good  time  every  minute ; 
yet  in  the  quiet  of  her  own  room  there  would 
always  come  back  the  yearning  that  had 
been  awakened  in  the  desert  and  would  not 
be  silenced. 

Sometimes  when  the  memory  of  that  great 
deep  love  she  had  heard  expressed  for  her 
self  came  over  her,  the  bitter  tears  would 
come  to  her  eyes  and  one  thought  would 
throb  through  her  consciousness :  "  Not 
worthy  !  Not  worthy  !  "  He  had  not  thought 
her  fit  to  be  his  wife.  Her  father  and  her 
world  would  think  it  quite  otherwise.  They 
would  count  him  unworthy  to  mate  with 
her,  an  heiress,  the  pet  of  society ;  he  a  man 
who  had  given  up  his  life  for  a  whim,  a  fad, 
a  fanatical  fancy  !  But  she  knew  it  was  not 
so.  She  knew  him  to  be  a  man  of  all  men, 
She  knew  it  was  true  that  she  was  not  such  a 
woman  as  a  man  like  that  could  fitly  wed, 
and  the  thought  galled  her  constantly. 

She  tried  to  accustom  herself  to  think  of 
him  as  a  pleasant  experience,  a  friend  who 


HIS  MOTHER  165 

might  have  been  if  circumstances  with  them 
both  had  been  different ;  she  tried  to  tell  her 
self  that  it  was  a  passing  fancy  with  them 
which  both  would  forget ;  and  she  tried  with 
all  her  heart  to  forget,  even  locking  away  the 
precious  little  book  and  trying  to  forget  it  too. 

And  then,  one  day  in  late  summer,  she 
#ent  with  a  motoring  party  through  New 
England ;  as  frolicsome  and  giddy  a  party 
as  could  be  found  among  New  York  society 
transferred  for  the  summer  to  the  world  of 
Nature.  There  was  to  be  a  dance  or  a  house 
party  or  something  of  the  sort  at  the  end  of 
the  drive.  Hazel  scarcely  knew,  and  cared 
less.  She  was  becoming  utterly  weary  of 
her  butterfly  life. 

The  day  was  hot  and  dusty,  Indian  summer 
intensified.  They  had  got  out  of  their  way 
through  a  mistake  of  the  chauffeur,  and  sud 
denly  just  on  the  edge  of  a  tiny  quaint  little 
village  the  car  broke  down  and  refused  to  go 
on  without  a  lengthy  siege  of  coaxing  and 
petting. 

The  members  of  the  party,  powdered  with; 
dust  and  in  no  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind 
from  the  delay,  took  refuge  at  the  village  inn, 
an  old-time  hostelry  close  to  the  roadside, 
with  wide,  brick-paved,  white-pillared  piazza 
across  the  front,  and  a  mysterious  hedged 


166    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

garden  at  the  side.  There  were  many  plain 
wooden  rockers  neatly  adorned  with  white 
crash  on  the  piazza,  and  one  or  two  late 
summer  boarders  loitering  about  with  knit 
ting  work  or  book.  The  landlord  brought 
cool  tinkling  glasses  of  water  and  rich  milk 
from  the  spring-house,  and  they  dropped  into 
the  chairs  to  wait  while  the  men  cf  the  party 
gave  assistance  to  the  chauffeur  in  patching 
up  the  car. 

Hazel  sank  wearily  into  her  chair  and 
sipped  the  milk  unhungrily.  She  wished 
she  had  not  come ;  wished  the  day  were  over, 
and  that  she  might  have  planned  something 
more  interesting ;  wished  she  had  chosen 
different  people  to  be  of  her  party  ;  and  idly 
watched  a  white  hen  with  yellow  kid  boots 
and  a  coral  comb  in  her  nicely  groomed  hair 
picking  daintily  about  the  green  under  the 
oak  trees  that  shaded  the  street.  She  listened 
to  the  drone  of  the  bees  in  the  garden  near 
by,  the  distant  whetting  of  a  scythe,  the  mon 
otonous  whang  of  a  steam  thresher  not  far 
away,  the  happy  voices  of  children,  and 
thought  how  empty  a  life  in  this  village 
would  be ;  almost  as  dreary  and  uninterest 
ing  as  living  in  a  desert — and  then  suddenly 
she  caught  a  name  and  the  pink  flew  into 
her  cheeks  and  memory  set  her  heart  athrob 


HIS  MOTHER  167 

It  was  the  landlord  talking  to  a  lingering 
summer  boarder,  a  quiet,  gray-haired  woman 
who  sat  reading  at  the  end  of  the  piazza. 

"Well,  Miss  Norton,  so  you're  goin*  to 
leave  us  next  week.  Sorry  to  hear  it. 
Don't  seem  nat'ral  'thout  you  clear  through 
October.  Ca'c'late  you're  comin'  back  to 
Granville  in  the  spring?" 

Granville !  Granville !  Where  had  she 
heard  of  Granville  ?  Ah !  She  knew  in 
stantly.  It  was  his  old  home !  His  mother 
lived  there !  But  then  of  course  it  might 
have  been  another  Granville.  She  wasn't 
ever*  sure  what  state  they  were  in  now,  New 
Hampshire  or  Vermont.  They  had  been 
wavering  about  on  the  state  line  several 
times  that  day,  and  she  never  paid  attention 
to  geography. 

Then  the  landlord  raised  his  voice  again. 

He  was  gazing  across  the  road  where  a 
white  colonial  house,  white-fenced  with 
pickets  like  clean  sugar  frosting,  nestled  in 
the  luscious  grass,  green  and  clean  and  fresh, 
and  seeming  utterly  apart  from  the  soil  and 
dust  of  the  road,  as  if  nothing  wearisome 
could  ever  enter  there.  Brightly  there 
bloomed  a  border  of  late  flowers,  double 
asters,  zinnias,  peonies,  with  a  flame  of 
scarlet  poppies  breaking  into  the  smoke-like 


168    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

blue  of  larkspurs  and  bachelor  buttons,  as  i 
neared  the  house.  Hazel  had  not  noticed  it 
until  now  and  she  almost  cried  out  with 
pleasure  over  the  splendour  of  colour. 

"Wai,"  said  the  landlord  chinking  some 
loose  coins  in  his  capacious  pockets,  "  I 
reckon  Mis'  Brownleigh'll  miss  yeh  'bout  as 
much  as  enny  of  us.  She  lots  on  your 
comin'  over  to  read  to  her.  I've  heerd 
her  say  as  how  Amelia  Ellen  is  a  good 
nurse,  but  she  never  was  much  on  the 
readin',  an'  Amelia  Ellen  knows  it  too.  Mis' 
Brownleigh  she'll  be  powerful  lonesome  fer 
yeh  when  yeh  go.  It's  not  so  lively  fur  her 
tied  to  her  bed  er  her  chair,  even  ef  John 
does  write  to  her  reg'lur  twicet  a  week." 

And  now  Hazel  noticed  that  on  the  cov 
ered  veranda  in  front  of  the  wing  of  the 
house  across  the  way  there  sat  an  old  lady 
on  a  reclining  wheeled  chair,  and  that 
another  woman  in  a  plain  blue  gown  hovered 
near  waiting  upon  her.  A  luxuriant  wood 
bine  partly  hid  the  chair,  and  the  distance 
was  too  great  to  see  the  face  of  the  woman, 
but  Hazel  grew  weak  with  wonder  and  pleas 
ure.  She  sat  quite  still  trying  to  gather  her 
forces  while  the  summer  boarder  expressed 
earnest  regret  at  having  to  leave  her  chosen 
summer  abiding  place  so  much  earlier  than 


HIS  MOTHER  169 

usual.  At  last  her  friends  began  to  rally 
Hazel  on  her  silence.  She  turned  away 
annoyed,  and  answered  them  crossly,  follow 
ing  the  landlord  into  the  house  and  ques 
tioning  him  eagerly.  She  had  suddenly  ar 
rived  at  the  conclusion  that  she  must  see 
Mrs.  Brownleigh  and  know  if  she  looked 
Jike  her  son,  and  if  she  was  the  kind  of 
mother  one  would  expect  such  a  son  to  have. 
She  felt  that  in  the  sight  might  lie  her  eman 
cipation  from  the  bewitchment  that  had 
bound  her  in  its  toils  since  her  Western  trip. 
She  also  secretly  hoped  it  might  justify  her 
dearest  dreams  of  what  his  mother  was  like. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  lady  across  the 
street  would  mind  if  I  went  over  to  look  at 
her  beautiful  flowers  ?  '*'  she  burst  in  upon  the 
astonished  landlord  as  he  tipped  his  chair 
back  with  his  feet  on  another  and  prepared 
to  browse  over  yesterday's  paper  for  the 
third  time  that  day. 

He  brought  his  chair  down  on  its  four  legs 
with  a  thump  and  drew  his  hat  further  over 
nis  forehead. 

"  Not  a  bit,  not  a  bit,  young  lady.  She's 
proud  to  show  off  her  flowers.  They're  one 
of  the  sights  of  Granville.  Mis'  Brownleigh 
loves  to  have  comp'ny.  Jest  go  right  over 
an'  tell  her  I  sent  you.  She'll  tell  you  aH 


170    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

about  'em,  an'  like  ez  not  she'll  give  you  a 
bokay  to  take  'long.  She's  real  generous 
with  'em." 

He  tottered  out  to  the  door  after  her  on 
his  stiff  rheumatic  legs,  and  suggested  that 
the  other  young  ladies  might  like  to  go 
along,  but  they  one  and  all  declined,  to 
Hazel's  intense  relief,  and  called  their  ridi 
cule  after  her  as  she  picked  her  way  across 
the  dusty  road  and  opened  the  white  gate 
into  the  peaceful  scene  beyond. 

When  she  drew  close  to  the  side  piazza 
she  saw  one  of  the  most  beautiful  faces  she 
had  ever  looked  upon.  The  features  were 
delicate  and  exquisitely  modelled,  aged  by 
years  and  much  suffering,  yet  lovely  with  a 
peace  that  had  permitted  no  fretting.  An 
abundance  of  waving  silken  hair  white  as 
driven  snow  was  piled  high  upon  her  head 
against  the  snowy  pillow,  and  soft  brown 
eyes  made  the  girl's  h^art  throb  quickly  with 
their  likeness  to  those  other  eyes  that  had 
once  looked  into  hers. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  simple  little  muslin 
gown  of  white  and  gray  with  white  cloud-like 
finish  at  throat  and  wrists,  and  across  the 
helpless  limbs  was  flung  a  light  afghan  of 
pink  and  gray  wool.  She  made  a  sweet 
picture  as  she  lay  and  watched  her  ap- 


HIS  MOTHER  171 

preaching  guest  with  a  smile  of  interest  and 
welcome. 

"  The  landlord  said  you  would  not  mind 
if  I  came  over  to  see  your  flowers,"  Hazel 
said  with  a  shy,  half-frightened  catch  in  her 
voice.  Now  that  she  was  here  she  was  al 
most  sorry  she  had  come.  It  might  not  be 
his  mother  at  all,  and  what  could  she  say 
anyway  ?  Yet  her  first  glimpse  told  her  that 
this  was  a  mother  to  be  proud  of.  "The 
most  beautiful  mother  in  the  world  "  he  had 
called  her,  and  surely  this  woman  could  be 
none  other  than  the  one  who  had  mothered 
such  a  son.  Her  highest  ideals  of  mother 
hood  seemed  realized  as  she  gazed  upon  the 
peaceful  face  of  the  invalid. 

And  then  the  voice  !  For  the  woman  was 
speaking  now,  holding  out  a  lily-white  hand 
to  her  and  bidding  her  be  seated  in  the 
Chinese  willow  chair  that  stood  close  by  the- 
wheeled  one  ;  a  great  green  silk  cushion  at 
the  back,  and  a  large  palm  leaf  fan  on  the 
table  beside  it 

"  I  am  so  pleased  that  you  came  over," 
Mrs.  Brownleigh  was  saying.  "  I  have  been 
wondering  if  some  one  wouldn't  come  to 
me.  I  keep  my  flowers  partly  to  attract  my 
friends,  for  I  can  stand  a  great  deal  of  com 
pany  since  I'm  all  alone.  You  came  in  the 


172    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

big  motor  car  that  broke  down,  didn't  you? 
I've  been  watching  the  pretty  girls  over  there, 
in  their  gay  ribbons  and  veils.  They  look 
like  human  flowers.  Rest  here  and  tell  me 
where  you  have  come  from  and  where  you 
are  going,  while  Amelia  Ellen  picks  you  some 
flowers  to  take  along.  Afterwards  you  shall 
go  among  them  and  see  if  there  are  any  you 
like  that  she  has  missed.  Amelia  Ellen ! 
Get  your  basket  and  scissors  and  pick  a 
great  many  flowers  for  this  young  lady.  It 
is  getting  late  and  they  have  not  much 
longer  to  blossom.  There  are  three  white 
buds  on  the  rose-bush.  Pick  them  all.  I 
think  they  fit  your  face,  my  dear.  Now  take 
off  your  hat  and  let  me  see  your  pretty  hair 
without  its  covering.  I  want  to  get  your 
picture  fixed  in  my  heart  so  I  can  look  at 
you  after  you  are  gone." 

And  so  quite  simply  they  fell  into  easy  talk 
about  each  other,  the  day,  the  village,  and 
the  flowers. 

"  You  see  the  little  white  church  down  the 
street?  My  husband  was  its  pastor  for 
twenty  years.  I  came  to  this  house  a  bride, 
and  o&r  boy  was  born  here.  Afterwards, 
when  his  father  was  taken  away,  I  stayed 
right  here  with  the  people  who  loved  him. 
The  boy  was  in  college  then,  getting  ready 


HIS  MOTHER  173 

to  take  up  his  father's  work.  I've  stayed 
here  ever  since.  I  love  the  people  and  they 
love  me,  and  I  couldn't  very  well  be  moved, 
you  know.  My  boy  is  out  in  Arizona,  a 
home  missionary  ! "  She  said  it  as  Abraham 
Lincoln's  mother  might  have  said  :  "  My  boy 
is  president  of  the  United  States ! "  Hex 
face  wore  a  kind  of  glory  that  bore  a  start' 
ling  resemblance  to  the  man  of  the  desert 
Hazel  marvelled  greatly,  and  understood 
what  had  made  the  son  so  great. 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  could  go  and  leave 
you  alone  !  "  she  broke  forth  almost  bitterly. 
"  I  should  think  his  duty  was  here  with  his 
mother ! " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  the  mother  smiled;  "they 
do  say  that,  some  of  them,  but  it's  because 
they  don't  understand.  You  see  we  gave 
John  to  God  when  he  was  born,  and  it  was 
our  hope  from  the  first  that  he  would  choose 
to  be  a  minister  and  a  missionary.  Of  course 
John  thought  at  first  after  his  father  went 
away  that  he  could  not  leave  me,  but  I  made 
him  see  that  I  would  be  happier  so.  He 
wanted  me  to  go  with  him,  but  I  knew  I  should 
only  be  a  hindrance  to  the  work,  and  it 
came  to  me  that  my  part  in- the  work  was  to 
Stay  at  home  and  let  him  go.  It  was  all  I 
had  left  to  do  after  I  became  an  invalid 


174    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

And  I'm  very  comfortable.  Amelia  Ellen 
takes  care  of  me  like  a  baby,  and  there  are 
plenty  of  friends.  My  boy  writes  me  beauti 
ful  letters  twice  a  week,  and  we  have  such 
nice  talks  about  the  work.  He's  very  like 
bis  father,  and  growing  more  so  every  day. 
Perhaps/'  she  faltered  and  fumbled  under 
the  pink  and  silver  lap  robe,  "  perhaps  you'd 
like  to  read  a  bit  of  one  of  his  letters.  I  have 
it  here.  It  came  yesterday  and  I've  only 
read  it  twice.  I  don't  let  myself  read  them 
too  often  because  they  have  to  last  three 
days  apiece  at  least  Perhaps  you'd  read  it 
aloud  to  me.  I  like  to  hear  John's  words 
aloud  sometimes  and  Amelia  Ellen  has  never 
spent  much  time  reading.  She  is  peculiar  in 
her  pronunciation.  Do  you  mind  reading  it 
to  me?" 

She  held  a  letter  forth,  written  in  a  strong 
free  hand,  the  same  that  had  signed  the 
name  John  Chadwick  Brownleigh  in  the 
little  book.  Hazel's  heart  throbbed  eagerly 
and  her  hand  trembled  as  she  reached  it 
shyly  towards  the  letter.  What  a  miracle 
was  this  I  that  his  very  letter  was  being  put 
into  her  hand,  her  whom  he  loved — to  read! 
Was  it  possible  ?  Could  there  be  a  mistake  ? 
No,  surely  not.  There  could  not  be  two  John 
Hrownleighs,  both  missionaries  to  Arizona. 


HIS  MOTHER  175 

"  Dear  little  Mother  o'  Mine ; "  it  began, 
and  plunged  at  once  into  the  breezy  life  of 
the  Western  country.  He  had  been  to  a 
cattle  round-up  the  week  before  and  he 
described  it  minutely  in  terse  and  vivid 
language,  with  many  a  flash  of  wit,  or  graver 
touch  of  wisdom,  and  here  and  there  a  boyish 
expression  that  showed  him  young  at  heart, 
and  devoted  to  his  mother.  He  told  of  a 
visit  he  had  paid  to  the  Hopi  Indians,  their 
strange  villages,  each  like  a  gigantic  house 
with  many  rooms,  called  a  pueblo,  built  on  the 
edges  of  lofty  crags  or  mesas  and  looking 
like  huge  castles  five  or  six  hundred  feet 
above  the  desert  floor.  He  told  of  Walpi, 
a  village  out  on  the  end  of  a  great  pro 
montory,  its  only  access  a  narrow  neck  of 
land  less  than  a  rod  wide,  with  one  little 
path  worn  more  than  a  foot  deep  in  the 
solid  rock  by  the  feet  of  ten  generations 
passing  over  it,  where  now  live  about  two 
hundred  and  thirty  people  in  one  build 
ing.  There  were  seven  of  these  villages 
built  on  three  mesas  that  reach  out  from 
the  northern  desert  like  three  great  fingers, 
Oraibi,  the  largest,  having  over  a  thou 
sand  people.  He  explained  that  Spanish 
explorers  found  these  Hopis  in  1540,  long 
before  the  pilgrims  landed  at  Plymouth  Rock, 


176    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  called  the  country  Tusayan.  Then  he 
went  on  to  describe  a  remarkable  meeting 
that  had  been  held  in  which  the  Indians  had 
manifested  deep  interest  in  spiritual  things, 
and  had  asked  many  curious  questions  about 
life,  death  and  the  hereafter. 

"  You  see,  dear,"  said  the  mother,  her  eyes 
fchining  eagerly,  "  you  see  how  much  they 
need  him,  and  I'm  glad  I  can  give  him.  It 
makes  me  have  a  part  in  the  work." 

Hazel  turned  back  to  the  letter  and  went 
on  reading  to  hide  the  tears  that  were  gath 
ering  in  her  own  eyes  as  she  looked  upon  the 
exalted  face  of  the  mother. 

There  was  a  detailed  account  of  a  confer 
ence  of  missionaries,  to  attend  which  the  rider 
had  ridden  ninety  miles  on  horseback ;  and 
at  the  close  there  was  an  exquisite  description 
of  the  spot  where  they  had  camped  the  last 
night  of  their  ride.  She  knew  it  from  the 
first  word  almost,  and  her  heart  beat  so  wildly 
she  could  hardly  keep  her  voice  steady  to 
read: 

"  I  stopped  over  night  on  the  way  home  at 
a  place  I  dearly  love.  There  is  a  great  rock, 
shelving  and  overhanging,  for  shelter  from 
any  passing  storm,  and  quite  near  a  charm 
ing  green  boudoir  of  cedars  on  three  sides, 
and  rock  on  the  fourth.  An  abundant  water- 


HIS  MOTHER  177 

hole  makes  camping  easy  for  me  and  Billy, 
and  the  stars  overhead  are  good  tapersc 
Here  I  build  my  fire  and  boil  the  kettle,  read 
my  portion  and  lie  down  to  watch  the  heavens 
Mother,  I  wish  you  knew  how  near  to  God 
one  feels  out  in  the  desert  with  the  stars 
Last  night  about  three  o'clock  I  woke  to  re 
plenish  my  fire  and  watch  a  while  a  great 
comet,  the  finest  one  for  many  years.  I  would 
tell  you  about  it  but  I've  already  made  this 
letter  too  long,  and  it's  time  Billy  and  I  were 
on  our  way  again.  I  love  this  spot  beside  the 
big  rock  and  often  come  back  to  it  on  my 
journeys ;  perhaps  because  here  I  once  camped 
with  a  dear  friend  and  we  had  pleasant  con 
verse  together  around  our  brushwood  fire. 
It  makes  the  desert  seem  less  lonely  because 
I  can  sometimes  fancy  my  friend  still  re 
clining  over  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire  in 
the  light  that  plays  against  the  great  rock. 
Well,  little  mother  o'  mine,  I  must  close. 
Cheer  up,  for  it  has  been  intimated  to  me  that 
I  may  be  sent  East  to  General  Assembly  in 
the  spring,  and  then  for  three  whole  weeks 
with  you  !  That  will  be  when  the  wild  straw 
berries  are  out,  and  I  shall  carry  you  in  my 
arms  and  spread  a  couch  for  you  on  the 
strawberry  hill  behind  the  house,  and  you 
shall  pick  some  again  with  your  own  hands," 


178    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

With  a  sudden  catch  in  her  throat  like  4 
sob  the  reading  came  to  an  end  and  Hazel, 
her  eyes  bright  with  tears,  handed  the  letter 
reverently  back  to  the  mother  whose  face  was 
bright  with  smiles. 

"  Isn't  he  a  boy  worth  giving  ?  "  she  asked 
as  she  folded  the  letter  and  slipped  it  back 
under  the  pink  and  gray  cover. 

"  He  is  a  great  gift,"  said  Hazel  in  a  low 
voice. 

She  was  almost  glad  that  Amelia  Ellen 
came  up  with  an  armful  of  flowers  just  then 
and  she  might  bury  her  face  in  their  freshness 
and  hide  the  tears  that  would  not  be  stayed, 
and  then  before  she  had  half  admired  their 
beauty  there  was  a  loud  "  Honk-honk ! "  from 
the  road,  followed  by  a  more  impatient  one, 
and  Hazel  was  made  aware  that  she  was  being 
waited  for. 

"I'm  sorry  you  must  go,  dear/'  said  the 
gentle  woman.  "  I  haven't  seen  so  beautiful 
a  girl  in  years,  and  I'm  sure  you  have  a  lovely 
heart,  too.  I  wish  you  could  visit  me  again." 

"  I  will  come  again  some  time  if  you  will  let 
me ! "  said  the  girl  impulsively,  and  then 
stooped  and  kissed  the  soft  rose-leaf  cheek, 
and  fled  down  the  path  trying  to  get  control 
of  her  emotion  before  meeting  her  com 
panions 


HIS  MOTHER  179 

Hazel  was  quiet  all  the  rest  of  the  way,  and 
was  rallied  much  upon  her  solemnity.  She 
pleaded  a  headache  and  closed  her  eyes, 
while  each  heart-throb  carried  her  back  over 
the  months  and  brought  her  again  to  the  lift 
tie  camp  under  the  rock  beneath  the  stars. 

"  He  remembered  still !  He  cared ! "  This 
was  what  her  glad  thoughts  sang  as  the  car 
whirled  on,  and  her  gay  companions  forgot 
her  and  chattered  of  their  frivolities. 

"  How  wonderful  that  I  should  find  his 
mother ! "  she  said  again  and  again  to  her 
self.  Yet  it  was  not  so  wonderful.  He  had 
told  her  the  name  of  the  town,  and  she  might 
have  come  here  any  time  of  her  own  accord. 
But  it  was  strange  and  beautiful  that  the  ac 
cident  had  brought  her  straight  to  the  door 
of  the  house  where  he  had  been  born  and 
brought  up !  What  a  beautiful,  happy  boy 
hood  he  must  have  had  with  a  mother  like 
that !  Hazel  found  herself  thinking  wistfully, 
out  of  the  emptiness  of  her  own  motherless 
girlhood.  Yes,  she  would  go  back  and  see 
the  sweet  mother  some  day ;  and  she  fell  to 
planning  how  it  could  be. 


XI 

REFUGE 

MILTON  HAMAR  had  not  troubled 
Hazel  all  summer.     From  time  to 
time  her  father  mentioned  him  as 
being  connected  with  business  enterprises, 
and  it  was  openly  spoken  of  now  that  a  di 
vorce  had  been  granted  him,  and  his  formei 
wife  was  soon  to  marry  again.     All  this,  how 
ever,  was  most  distasteful  to  the  girl  to  whom 
the  slightest  word  about  the  man  served  to 
bring  up  the  hateful  scene  of  the  desert. 

But  early  in  the  fall  he  appeared  among 
them  again,  assuming  his  old  friendly  atti 
tude  towards  the  whole  family,  dropping  in 
to  -lunch  or  dinner  whenever  it  suited  his 
fancy.  He  seemed  to  choose  to  forget  what 
had  passed  between  Hazel  and  himself,  to  act 
as  though  it  had  not  been,  and  resumed  his 
former  playful  attitude  of  extreme  interest  in 
the  girl  of  whom  he  had  always  been  fond. 
Hazel,  however,  found  a  certain  air  of  pro 
prietorship  in  his  gaze,  a  too-open  expression 
of  his  admiration  which  was  offensive.  She 


REFUGE  181 

could  not  forget,  try  as  hard  as  she  might 
for  her  father's  sake  to  forgive.  She  shrank 
away  from  the  man's  company,  avoided  him 
whenever  possible,  and  at  last  when  he  seemed 
to  be  almost  omnipresent,  and  growing  every 
day  more  insistent  in  his  attentions,  she  cast 
about  her  for  some  absorbing  interest  which 
would  take  her  out  of  his  sphere. 

Then  a  strange  fancy  took  her  in  its  pos 
session. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  night  when  it 
came  to  her,  where  she  had  been  turning 
her  luxurious  pillow  for  two  hours  trying  in 
vain  to  tempt  a  drowsiness  that  would  not 
come,  and  she  arose  at  once  and  wrote  a 
brief  and  businesslike  letter  to  the  landlord 
of  the  little  New  Hampshire  inn  where  she 
had  been  delayed  for  a  couple  of  hours  in  the 
fall.  In  the  morning,  true  to  her  impulsive 
nature,  she  besieged  her  father  until  he  gave 
\iis  permission  for  her  to  take  her  maid  and 
i  quiet  elderly  cousin  of  his  and  go  away 
for  a  complete  rest  before  the  society  season 
began. 

It  was  a  strange  whim  for  his  butterfly 
daughter  to  take  but  the  busy  man  saw  no 
harm  in  it,  and  was  fully  convinced  that  it 
was  merely  her  way  of  punishing  some  over 
ardent  follower  for  a  few  days ;  and  feeling 


182    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

sure  she  would  soon  return,  he  let  her  go 
She  had  had  her  way  all  her  life,  and  why 
should  he  cross  her  in  so  simple  a  matter 
as  a  few  days'  rest  in  a  country  inn  with  a 
respectable  chaperone  ? 

The  letter  to  the  landlord  was  outtravelled 
by  a  telegram  whose  answer  sent  Hazel  on 
her  way  the  next  morning,  thankful  that  she 
had  been  able  to  get  away  during  a  tempo 
rary  absence  of  Milton  Hamar,  and  that  her 
father  had  promised  not  to  let  any  of  her 
friends  know  of  her  whereabouts.  His  eye 
had  twinkled  as  he  made  the  promise.  He 
was  quite  sure  which  of  her  many  admirers 
was  being  punished,  but  he  did  not  tell  her 
so.  He  intended  to  be  most  judicious  with 
all  her  young  men  friends.  He  so  confided 
his  intentions  to  Milton  Hamar  that  evening, 
having  no  thought  that  Hazel  would  mind 
their  old  friend's  knowing. 

Two  days  later  Hazel,  after  establishing 
her  little  party  comfortably  in  the  best  rooms 
the  New  Hampshire  inn  afforded,  putting  a 
large  box  of  new  novels  at  their  disposal,  and 
another  of  sweets,  and  sending  orders  for 
new  magazines  to  be  forwarded,  went  over 
to  call  on  the  sweet  old  lady  towards  whom 
her  heart  had  been  turning  eagerly,  with  a 
longing  that  would  not  be  put  away,  ever 


REFUGE  183 

since  that  first  accidental,  or  providential, 
meeting. 

When  she  came  back,  through  the  first 
early  snow-storm,  with  her  cheeks  like  winter 
roses  and  her  furry  hat  all  feathered  with 
great  white  flakes,  she  found  Milton  Hamar 
seated  in  front  of  the  open  fire  in  the  office 
making  the  air  heavy  with  his  best  tobacco, 
and  frowning  impatiently  through  the  small- 
paned  windows. 

The  bright  look  faded  instantly  from  her 
face  and  the  peace  which  she  had  almost 
caught  from  the  woman  across  the  way. 
Her  eyes  flashed  indignantly,  and  her  whole 
small  frame  stiffened  for  the  combat  that  she 
knew  must  come  now.  There  was  no  mis 
taking  her  look.  Milton  Hamar  knew  at 
once  that  he  was  not  welcome.  She  stood 
for  an  instant  with  the  door  wide  open,  blow 
ing  a  great  gust  of  biting  air  across  the  wide 
room  and  into  his  face.  A  cloud  of  smoke 
sprang  out  from  the  fireplace  to  meet  it  and 
the  two  came  together  in  front  of  the  man, 
and  made  a  visible  wall  for  a  second  between 
him  and  the  girl. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  cigar  in  hand,  and 
an  angry  exclamation  upon  his  lips.  The 
office,  fortunately,  was  without  other  occu* 
pant. 


r84    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Why  in  the  name  of  all  that's  unholy 
did  you  lead  me  a  race  away  off  to  this  for 
saken  little  hole  in  midwinter,  Hazel  ? "  he 
cried. 

Hazel  drew  herself  to  her  full  height  and 
with  the  dignity  that  well  became  her,  an 
swered  him  : 

"  Really,  Mr.  Hamar,  what  right  have  you 
to  speak  to  me  in  that  way?  And  what 
right  had  you  to  follow  me  ?  " 

"The  right  of  the  man  who  is  going  to 
marry  you  1 "  he  answered  fiercely  ;  "  and  I 
think  it's  about  time  this  nonsense  stopped, 
It's  nothing  but  coquettish  foolishness,  your 
coming  here.  I  hate  coquettish  fools.  I 
didn't  think  you  had  it  in  you  to  coquet,  but 
it  seems  all  women  are  alike." 

"  Mr.  Hamar,  you  are  forgetting  yourself," 
said  the  girl  quietly,  turning  to  shut  the  door 
that  she  might  gain  time  to  get  control  of 
her  shaken  nerves.  She  had  a  swift  vision  of 
what  it  would  be  if  she  were  married  to  a  man 
like  that.  No  wonder  his  wife  was  entirely 
willing  to  give  him  a  divorce.  But  she  shud 
dered  as  she  turned  back  and  faced  him 
bravely. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  come  here  for  ?  "  he 
asked  in  a  less  fierce  tone. 

"I  came  because  I  wanted  to  be  quiet/ 


REFUGE  185 

Hazel  said  trying  to  steady  her  voice,  "  and 
— I  will  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  I  came  be 
cause  I  wanted  to  get  away  from — you  1  I 
have  not  liked  the  way  you  acted  towards 
me  since — that  day — in  Arizona." 

The  man's  fierce  brows  drew  together,  but 
a  kind  of  mask  of  apology  overspread  his 
Features.  He  perceived  that  he  had  gone 
too  far  with  the  girl  whom  he  had  thought 
scarcely  more  than  a  child.  He  had  thought 
he  could  mould  her  like  wax,  and  that  his 
scorn  would  instantly  wither  her  wiles.  He 
watched  her  steadily  for  a  full  minute ;  the 
girl,  though  trembling  in  every  nerve,  send 
ing  back  a  steady,  haughty  gaze. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  ?  "  he  said  at  last 

"I  do ! "  Her  voice  was  quiet,  but  she 
was  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

"Well,  perhaps  we'd  better  talk  it  over. 
I  see  I've  taken  too  much  for  granted.  I 
thought  you'd  understood  for  a  year  or  more 
what  was  going  on — what  I  was  doing  it 
for." 

*  -  You  thought  I  understood !  You  thought 
i  would  be  willing  to  be  a  party  to  such  an 
awful  thing  as  you  have  done ! "  Hazel's 
eyes  were  flashing  fire  now.  The  tears  were 
scorched  away. 

"  Sit  down !     We'll  talk  it  over,"  said  the 


186    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESE'&T 

man  moving  a  great  summer  chair  nearer  to 
his  own.  His  eyes  were  on  her  face  approv 
ingly  and  he  was  thinking  what  a  beautiful 
picture  she  made  in  her  anger. 

"  Never ! "  said  the  girl  quickly.  "  It  is 
not  a  thing  I  could  talk  over.  I  do  not  wish 
to  speak  of  it  again.  I  wish  you  to  leave 
this  place  at  once/1  and  she  turned  with  a 
quick  movement  and  fled  up  the  quaint  old 
staircase. 

She  stayed  in  her  room  until  he  left,  utterly 
refusing  to  see  him,  refusing  to  answer  the 
long  letters  he  wrote  and  sent  up  to  her; 
and  finally,  after  another  day,  he  went  away. 
But  he  wrote  to  her  several  times,  and  came 
again  twice,  each  time  endeavouring  to  sur 
prise  her  into  talking  with  him.  The  girl 
grew  to  watch  nervously  every  approach  of 
the  daily  stage  which  brought  stray  travel 
lers  from  the  station  four  miles  distant,  and 
was  actually  glad  when  a  heavy  snow-storm 
shut  them  in  and  made  it  unlikely  that  her 
unwelcome  visitor  would  venture  again  into 
the  country. 

The  last  time  he  came  Hazel  saw  him  de 
scending  from  the  coach,  and  without  a  word 
to  any  one,  although  it  was  almost  supper 
time,  and  the  early  winter  twilight  was  upon 
them,  she  seized  her  fur  cloak  and  slipped 


REFUGE  187 

down  the  back  stairs,  out  through  the  shad 
ows,  across  the  road,  where  she  surprised 
good  Amelia  Ellen  by  flinging  her  arms 
about  her  neck  and  bursting  into  tears  right 
in  the  dark  front  hall,  for  the  gust  of  wintry 
wind  from  the  open  door  blew  the  candle  out, 
and  Amelia  Ellen  stood  astonished  and  be 
wildered  for  a  moment  in  the  blast  of  the 
north  wind  with  the  soft  arms  of  the  excited 
girl  in  her  furry  wrappings  clinging  about 
her  unaccustomed  shoulders. 

Amelia  Ellen  had  never  had  many  beauti 
ful  things  in  her  life,  the  care  of  her  Dresden- 
china  mistress,  and  her  brilliant  garden  of 
flowers,  having  been  the  crowning  of  her  life 
hitherto.  This  beautiful  city  girl  with  her 
exquisite  garments  and  her  face  like  a  flower, 
flung  upon  her  in  sudden  appeal,  drew  out 
all  the  latent  love  and  pity  and  sympathy  of 
which  Amelia  Ellen  had  a  larger  store  than 
most,  hidden  under  a  simple  and  severe 
exterior. 

"Per  the  land's  sake!  Whatever  ails 
you  ! "  she  exclaimed  when  she  could  speak 
for  astonishment,  and  to  her  own  surprise  her 
arm  enclosed  the  sobbing  girl  in  a  warm  em 
brace  while  with  the  other  hand  she  reached 
to  close  the  door.  "  Come  right  in  to  my 
kitchen  and  set  in  the  big  chair  by  the  cat  and 


188    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

let  me  give  you  a  cup  o*  tea.  Then  you  can 
tell  Mis'  Brownleigh  what's  troublin'  you. 
She'll  tknow  how  to  talk  to  you.  I'll  git  you 
some  tea  right  away." 

She  drew  the  shrinking  girl  into  the  kitchen 
and  ousting  the  cat  from  a  patchwork  rocker 
pushed  her  gently  into  it.  It  was  character 
istic  of  Amelia  Ellen  that  she  had  no  though* 
of  ministering  to  her  spiritual  needs  herself 
but  knew  her  place  was  to  bring  physical 
comfort. 

She  spoke  no  word  save  to  the  cat,  ad 
monishing  him  to  mend  his  manners  and 
keep  out  from  under  foot,  while  she  hurried 
to  the  tea  canister,  the ,' bread  box,  the  sugar 
bowl,  and  the  china  closet.  Soon  a  cup  of 
fragrant  tea  was  set  before  the  unexpected 
guest,  and  a  bit  of  delicate  toast  browning 
over  the  coals,  to  be  buttered  and  eaten  crisp 
with  the  tea  ;  and  the  cat  nestled  comfortably 
at  Hazel's  feet  while  she  drank  the  tea  and 
wiped  away  the  tears. 

"  You'll  think  I'm  a  big  baby,  Amelia  El 
len  !  "  cried  Hazel  trying  to  smile  shamedry 
"  but  I'm  just  so  tired  of  the  way  things  go. 
You  see  somebody  I  don't  a  bit  like  has  come 
up  from  New  York  on  the  evening  coach, 
and  I've  run  away  for  a  little  while.  I  don't 
kiwv  what  made  me  cry.  I  never  cry  at 


REFUGE  189 

home,  but  when  I  got  safely  over  here  a  big 
lump  came  in  my  throat  and  you  looked  so 
nice  and  kind  that  I  couldn't  keep  the  tears 
back." 

From  that  instant  Amelia  Ellen,  toasting 
fork  in  hand,  watching  the  sweet  blue  eyes 
and  the  tear-stained  face  that  resembled  a 
drenched  pink  bud  after  a  storm,  loved  Hazel 
Radcliffe.  Come  weal,  come  woe,  Amelia 
Ellen  was  from  henceforth  her  staunch  ad 
mirer  and  defendant. 

"  Never  you  mind,  honey,  you  just  eat 
your  tea  an'  run  in  to  Mis'  Brownleigh,  an' 
I'll  get  my  hood  an'  run  over  to  tell  your 
folks  you've  come  to  stay  all  night  over  here. 
Then  you'll  have  a  cozy  evenin'  readin'  while 
I  sew,  an'  you  can  sleep  late  come  mornin', 
and  go  back  when  you're  ready.  Nobody 
can't  touch  you  over  here.  I'm  not  lettin'  in 
people  by  night  'thout  I  know  'em,"  and  she 
winked  knowingly  at  the  girl  by  way  of  en 
couragement.  Well  she  knew  who  the  un 
welcome  stranger  from  New  York  was.  She 
had  keen  eyes,  and  had  watched  the  coach 
from  her  well-curtained  kitchen  window  as  it 
came  in. 

That  night  Hazel  told  her  invalid  friend  all 
about  Milton  Hamar,  and  slept  in  the  pleasant 
bed  that  Ameiia^Ellen  had  prepared  for  her, 


190    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

with  sheets  of  fragrant  linen  redolent  of  sweet 
clover.  Her  heart  was  lighter  for  the  simple, 
kindly  advice  and  the  gentle  love  that  had 
been  showered  upon  her.  She  wondered,  as 
she  lay  half  dozing  in  the  morning  with  the 
faint  odour  of  coffee  and  muffins  penetrating 
the  atmosphere,  why  it  was  that  she  could 
love  this  beautiful  mother  of  her  hero  so  much 
more  tenderly  than  she  had  ever  loved  any 
other  woman.  Was  it  because  she  had  never 
known  her  own  mother  and  had  longed  for 
one  all  her  life,  or  was  it  just  because  she  was 
his  dear  mother?  She  gave  up  trying  to 
answer  the  question  and  went  smiling  down 
to  breakfast,  and  then  across  the  road  to  face 
her  unwelcome  lover,  strong  in  the  courage 
that  friendly  counsel  had  given  her. 

Milton  Hamar  left  before  dinner,  having 
been  convinced  at  last  of  the  uselessness  of 
his  visit.  He  hired  a  man  with  a  horse  and 
cutter  to  drive  him  across  country  to  catch 
the  New  York  evening  express,  and  Hazel 
drew  a  breath  of  relief  and  began  to  find  new 
pleasure  in  life.  Her  father  was  off  on  a 
business  trip  for  some  weeks ;  her  brother 
had  gone  abroad  for  the  winter  with  a  party 
of  college  friends.  There  was  no  real  reason 
why  she  should  return  to  New  York  for 
some  time,  and  she  decided  to  stay  and  learn 


REFUGE  191 

of  this  saintly  woman  how  to  look  wisely  on 
the  things  of  life.  To  her  own  heart  she 
openly  acknowledged  that  there  was  a  deep 
pleasure  in  being  near  one  who  talked  of  the 
man  she  loved. 

So  the  winter  settled  down  to  business, 
and  Hazel  spent  happy  days  with  her  new 
friends,  for  Amelia  Ellen  had  become  a  true 
friend  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word. 

The  maid  had  found  the  country  wintei 
too  lonely  and  Hazel  had  found  her  useless 
and  sent  her  back  to  town.  She  was  learning 
by  association  with  Amelia  Ellen  to  do  a  few 
things  for  herself.  The  elderly  cousin,  whose 
years  had  been  a  long  strain  of  scrimping  to 
present  a  respectable  exterior,  was  only  toe 
happy  to  have  leisure  and  quiet  to  read  and 
embroider  to  her  heart's  content.  So  Hazel 
was  free  to  spend  much  time  with  Mrs.,  Brown- 
leigh. 

They  read  together,  at  least  Hazel  did  the 
reading,  for  the  older  eyes  were  growing  dim, 
and  had  to  be  guarded  to  prevent  the  terrible 
headaches  which  came  at  the  slightest  provo 
cation  and  made  the  days  a  blank  of  suffering 
for  the  lovely  soul  where  patience  was  having 
its  perfect  work. 

The  world  of  literature  opened  through  a 
new  door  to  the  eager  young  mind  now. 


I92    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Books  of  which  she  had  never  heard  were  at 
her  hand.  New  thoughts  and  feelings  were 
stirred  by  them.  A  few  friends  who  knew 
Mrs.  Brownleigh  through  their  summer  visits, 
and  others  who  had  known  her  husband,  kept 
her  well  supplied  with  the  latest  and  always 
the  best  of  everything — history,  biography, 
essays  and  fiction.  But  there  were  also 
books  of  a  deep  spiritual  character,  and 
magazines  that  showed  a  new  world,  the  re 
ligious  world,  to  the  girl.  She  read  with  zest 
kll  of  them,  and  enjoyed  deeply  the  pleasant 
converse  concerning  each.  Her  eyes  were 
being  opened  to  new  ways  of  living.  She 
was  beginning  to  know  that  there  was  an  ex 
istence  more  satisfying  than  just  to  go  from 
one  round  of  amusement  to  another.  And  al 
ways,  more  than  in  any  other  thing  she  read, 
she  took  a  most  unusual  interest  in  home 
missionary  literature.  It  was  not  because  it 
was  so  new  and  strange  and  like  a  fairy  tale, 
nor  because  she  knew  her  friend  enjoyed 
hearing  all  this  news  so  much,  but  because 
it  held  for  her  the  story  of  the  man  she 
now  knew  she  loved,  and  who  had  said  he 
loved  her.  She  wanted  to  put  herself  into 
touch  with  surroundings  like  his,  to  under 
stand  better  what  he  had  to  endure,  and  why 
he  had  not  dared  to  ask  her  to  share  his 


REFUGE  193 

his  hardship — most  of  all  why  he  had  not 
thought  her  worthy  to  suffer  with  him. 

When  she  grew  tired  of  reading  she  would 
go  out  into  the  kitchen  and  help  Amelia 
Ellen.  It  was  her  own  whim  that  she  should 
learn  how  to  make  some  of  the  good  things 
to  eat  for  which  Amelia  Ellen  was  famous. 
So  while  her  society  friends  at  home  went 
from  one  gay  scene  to  another,  dancing  and 
frivolling  through  the  night  and  sleeping 
away  the  morning,  Hazel  bared  her  round 
white  arms,  enveloped  herself  in  a  clean  blue- 
checked  apron,  and  learned  to  make  bread 
and  pies  and  gingerbread  and  puddings  and 
doughnuts  and  fruit-cake,  how  to  cook  meats 
and  vegetables  and  make  delicious  broths 
from  odds  and  ends,  and  to  concoct  the  most 
delectable  desserts  that  would  tempt  the  frail 
est  appetite.  Real  old  country  things  they 
were — no  fancy  salads  and  whips  and  froths 
that  society  has  hunted  out  to  tempt  its  wan 
ing  taste  till  everything  has  palled.  She 
wrote  to  one  of  her  old  friends,  who  demanded 
to  know  what  she  was  doing  so  long  up  there 
in  the  country  in  the  height  of  the  season, 
that  she  was  taking  a  course  in  Domestic 
Science  and  happily  recounted  her  menu  of 
accomplishments.  Secretly  her  heart  rej  oiced 
that  she  was  become  less  and  less  unworthy 


194    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  the  love  of  the  man  in  whose  home  and  at 
whose  mother's  side  she  was  learning  sweet 
lessons. 

There  came  letters,  of  course,  from  the  far 
away  missionary.  Hazel  stayed  later  in  the 
kitchen  the  morning  of  their  arrival,  conscious 
of  a  kind  of  extra  presence  in  his  mother's 
room  when  his  letters  arrived.  She  knew  the 
mother  liked  to  be  alone  with  her  son's  let 
ters,  and  that  she  saved  her  eyes  from  othef 
reading  for  them  alone.  Always  the  older  face 
wore  a  kind  of  glorified  look  when  the  girl 
entered  after  she  had  been  reading  her  letter. 
The  letter  itself  would  be  hidden  away  out  of 
sight  in  the  bosom  of  her  soft  gray  gown,  to 
be  read  again  and  again  when  she  was  alone, 
but  seldom  was  it  brought  out  in  the  presence 
of  the  visitor,  much  as  the  mother  was  grow 
ing  to  love  this  girl.  Frequently  there  were 
bits  of  news. 

"My  son  says  he  is  very  glad  I  am  having 
such  delightful  company  this  winter,  and  he 
wants  me  to  thank  you  from  him  for  reading 
£o  me,"  she  said  once,  patting  Hazel's  hand 
as  she  tucked  the  wool  robe  about  her  friend's 
helpless  form.  And  again  : 

"  My  son  is  starting  to  build  a  church.  He 
fs  very  happy  about  it.  They  have  hereto 
fore  held  worship  in  a  schoolhouse.  He  has 


REFUGE  195 

Collected  a  good  deal  of  the  money  himself, 
and  he  will  help  to  put  up  the  Building  with 
Viis  own  hands.  He  is  going  \o  send  me  a 
photograph  when  it  is  up.  I  would  like  to  be 
^resent  when  it  is  dedicated.  Il  makes  me 
^ery  proud  to  have  my  son  doing  <hat." 

The  next  letter  brought  a  photograph,  a 
umall  snapshot  of  the  canyon,  tiny  but  clear 
&iid  distinct.  Hazel's  hand  tremUed  when 
the  mother  gave  it  to  her  to  look  at,  for  she 
knew  the  very  spot.  She  fancied  it  \v  as  quite 
xi ear  the  place  where  they  had  paused  for 
water.  She  could  feel  again  the  cool  breath 
of  the  canyon,  the  damp  smell  of  the  earth 
and  ferns,  and  hear  the  call  of  the  wild  bird. 

Then  one  day  there  came  a  missionary 
magazine  with  a  short  article  on  the  wovk  oi 
Arizona  and  a  picture  of  the  missionary 
mounted  on  Billy,  just  ready  to  start  from  his 
little  shack  on  a  missionary  tour. 

Hazel,  turning  the  leaves,  came  upon  the 
picture  and  held  her  breath  with  astonish 
ment  and  delight ;  then  rapidly  glanced  over 
the  article,  her  heart  beating  wildly  as  though 
she  had  heard  his  voice  suddenly  calling  to 
her  out  of  the  distances  that  separated  them. 
She  had  a  beautiful  time  surprising  the  proud 
mother  with  the  picture  and  reading  the  ar 
ticle.  Tr^TO  that  morning  they  seemed  tx? 


196    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

have  a  tenderer  tie  between  them,  and 
just  before  Hazel  was  leaving  for  the  night, 
the  mother  reached  out  a  detaining  hand  and 
laid  it  on  the  girl's  arm.  "  I  wish  my  boy 
and  you  were  acquainted,  dear,"  she  said 
wistfully.  And  Hazel,  the  rich  colour  flood 
ing  her  face  at  once,  replied  hesitatingly : 

"  Oh,  why — I — feel — almost — as — though 
— we  were  !  "  Then  she  kissed  her  friend  on 
the  soft  cheek  and  hurried  back  to  the  inn. 

It  was  that  night  that  the  telegram  came 
to  say  that  her  father  had  been  seriously 
injured  in  a  railway  accident  and  would  be 
brought  home  at  once.  She  had  no  time 
to  think  of  anything  then  but  to  hurry  her 
belongings  together  and  hasten  to  New 
York, 


xn 

QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE 

DURING  the  six  weeks'  lingering  sul« 
fering  that  followed  the  accident 
Hazel  was  never  far  from  her  fa 
ther's  bedside.  It  seemed  as  though  a  new 
bond  of  understanding  had  come  between 
them. 

He  was  very  low  and  there  was  little  hope 
from  the  beginning.  As  he  grew  weaker  he 
seemed  never  to  want  his  daughter  out  of 
sight,  and  once  when  he  woke  suddenly  to 
find  her  close  beside  him,  a  smile  of  relief 
spread  over  his  face,  and  he  told  her  in  brief 
words  that  he  had  dreamed  she  was  lost 
again  in  Arizona,  and  that  he  had  been 
searching  for  her  with  the  wild  beasts  howl 
ing  all  about  and  wicked  men  prowling  in 
dark  caves.  He  told  her  how  during  that 
awful  time  of  her  disappearance  he  had  been 
haunted  by  her  face  as  she  was  a  tiny  baby 
after  her  mother  died,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
he  should  go  mad  if  he  could  not  find  her  at 
once. 

Then  to  soothe  him  she  told  him  of  die 
197 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

missionary,  and  how  gently  he  had  cared  fo? 
her ;  told  him  of  all  the  pleasant  little  details 
of  the  way,  though  not,  of  course,  of  his  love 
for  her  nor  hers  for  him.  Perhaps  the  father, 
with  eyes  keen  from  their  nearness  to  the 
other  world,  discerned  something  of  her  in 
terest  as  she  talked,  for  once  he  sighed  and 
said,  in  reference  to  the  life  of  sacrifice  the 
missionary  was  leading :  "  Well,  I  don't 
know  but  such  things  are  more  worth  while 
after  all." 

And  then  with  sudden  impulse  she  told 
him  of  her  finding  his  mother,  and  why  she 
^ad  wanted  to  go  to  the  country  in  the  middle 
of  the  society  season,  because  she  wanted  to 
know  more  of  the  peaceful  life  this  woman 
lived. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  meet  him  again.  Who 
knows  ?"  said  the  father,  looking  wistfully 
at  his  lovely  daughter,  and  then  he  turned 
his  head  away  and  sighed  again. 

As  the  confidence  grew  between  them  she 
told  him  one  day  of  Milton  Hamar's  unwel 
come  proposal,  and  the  indignation  of  the 
father  knew  no  bounds. 

It  was  after  that  she  ventured  to  read  to 
him  from  the  little  book,  and  to  tell  of  the 
worship  held  out  under  the  stars  in  the  desert 
It  came  to  be  a  habit  between  them,  as  the 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE     199 

days  grew  less,  that  she  should  read  the  little 
book,  and  afterwards  he  would  always  lie 
still  as  if  he  were  asleep. 

It  was  on  the  words  of  the  precious  psalm 
that  he  closed  his  eyes  for  the  last  time  in 
this  world,  and  it  was  the  psalm  that  brought 
comfort  to  the  daughter's  heart  when  she  came 
back  to  the  empty  house  after  the  funeral. 

Her  brother  was  there,  it  is  true,  but  he 
was  afraid  of  death,  and  wanted  to  get  back 
to  his  world  again,  back  to  the  European 
trip  where  he  had  left  his  friends,  and  espe 
cially  a  gay  young  countess  who  had  smiled 
upon  him.  He  was  impatient  of  death  and 
sorrow.  Hazel  saw  that  he  could  not  com 
prehend  her  loneliness,  so  she  bade  him 
go  as  soon  as  decency  would  allow,  and  he 
was  not  long  in  obeying  her.  He  had  had 
his  own  way  all  his  life,  and  even  death  was 
not  to  deny  him. 

?rhe  work  of  the  trained  nurses  who  had 
cared  for  her  father  interested  Hazel  deeply. 
She  had  talked  with  them  about  their  life  and 
preparation  for  it,  and  when  she  could  no 
longer  stand  the  great  empty  house  with 
only  Aunt  Maria  for  company,  who  had  come 
back  just  before  Mr.  RadclifiVs  death,  she 
determined  to  become  a  nurse  herself. 

There  was   much   ado   over   her  decision 


200    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

among  her  acquaintances,  and  Aunt  Maria 
thought  it  was  not  quite  respectable  for  her 
to  do  so  eccentric  a  thing  and  so  soon  after 
her  father's  death.  She  would  have  preferred 
to  have  had  her  run  down  to  Lakewood  for  a 
few  weeks  and  then  follow  her  brother  across 
the  water  for  a  year  or  two  of  travel ;  but 
Hazel  was  quite  determined,  and  before  Jan« 
uary  was  over  she  was  established  in  the  hos 
pital,  through  the  influence  of  their  family 
physician,  and  undergoing  her  first  initiation. 

It  was  not  easy  thus  to  give  up  her  life 
of  doing  exactly  as  she  pleased  when  she 
pleased,  and  become  a  servant  under  orders. 
Her  back  often  ached,  and  her  eyes  grew 
heavy  with  the  watching  and  the  ministering, 
and  she  would  be  almost  ready  to  give  over. 
Then  the  thought  of  the  man  of  the  desert 
gave  her  new  courage  and  strength.  It 
came  to  her  that  she  was  partaking  with  him 
in  the  great  work  of  the  kingdom,  and  with 
this  thought  she  would  rise  and  go  about  the 
strange  new  work  again,  until  her  interest  in 
the  individuals  to  whom  she  ministered  grew 
deep,  and  she  understood  in  a  measure  the 
reason  for  the  glory  in  the  face  of  the  mis 
sionary  as  he  spoke  in  the  starlight  about  his 
work. 

Often  her  heart  went  out  wistfully  towards 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    201 

her  invalid  friend  in  New  Hampshire,  and  she 
would  rest  herself  by  writing  a  long  letter, 
and  would  cherish  the  delicately  written 
answers.  Now  and  again  there  would  be 
some  slight  reference  to  "  my  son  "  in  these 
!etters.  As  the  spring  came  on  they  were 
more  frequent,  for  May  would  bring  the  Gen 
eral  Assembly,  and  the  son  was  to  be  one  of 
the  speakers.  How  her  heart  throbbed  when 
she  read  that  this  was  certain  now.  A  few 
days  later  when  she  happened  to  read  in  the 
daily  paper  some  item  about  Assembly  plans 
and  discovered  for  the  first  time  that  it  was 
to  meet  in  New  York,  she  found  herself  in  a 
flutter  of  joy.  Would  it  be  possible  for  her 
to  hear  him  speak?  That  was  the  great 
question  that  kept  coming  and  going  in  her 
mind.  Could  she  arrange  it  so  that  she  would 
be  sure  to  be  off  duty  when  his  time  came  to 
speak  ?  How  could  she  find  out  about  it  all  ? 
Thereafter  her  interest  in  the  church  news  of 
the  daily  papers  became  deep, 

Then  spring  came  on  with  its  languid  air 
and  the  hard  round  of  work,  with  often  a  call 
to  watch  when  overcome  with  weariness,  or 
to  do  some  unaccustomed  task  that  tried  her 
undisciplined  soul.  But  the  papers  were  full 
of  the  coming  Assembly,  and  at  last  the 
program  and  his  name  i 


202    THE  MAM  OF  THE  DESEPT 

She  laid  her  ptans  most  carefully,  but  the 
case  she  had  been  put  upon  that  week  was 
very  low,  dying,  and  the  woman  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  her  and  begged  her  to  stay  by  her 
till  the  end.  It  was  a  part  of  the  new  Hazel 
that  she  stayed,  though  her  heart  rose  up  in 
protest  and  tears  of  disappointment  would 
keep  coming  to  her  eyes.  The  head  nurse 
marked  them  with  disapproval  and  told  the 
house  doctor  that  Radcliffe  wcmld  never  make 
much  of  a  nurse  ;  she  had  no  control  over  her 
emotions. 

Death  came,  almost  too  late,  and  set  her 
free  for  the  afternoon,  but  it  was  buf  half  an 
hour  to  the  time  set  for  his  speech ,  she  was 
three  miles  from  the  place  of  meeting  and  still 
in  her  uniform.  It  was  almost  foolish  to  try. 
Nevertheless  she  hurried  to  her  room  and 
slipped  into  a  plain  little  street  suit,  the  thing 
that  would  go  on  quickest,  and  was  away. 

It  seemed  as  though  every  cab  and  car  and 
mode  of  transit  had  conspired  to  hinder  herr 
and  five  minutes  before  the  time  set  for  the 
next  speech  she  hurried  breathless  into  the 
dim  hallway  of  a  great  crowded  church,  and 
pressed  up  the  stairs  to  the  gallery,  through 
the  silent  leather  doors  that  could  sn& 
swing  open  for  the  crowd  inside  thecn, 
beard  at  last- — his  voice  ! 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    203 

She  was  away  up  at  the  top  of  the  gallery. 
Men  and  women  were  standing  close  all  about 
her.  She  could  not  catch  even  a  glimpse  of 
the  platform  with  its  array  of  noble  men 
whose  consecration  and  power  and  intellects 
had  made  them  great  religious  leaders.  She 
could  not  see  the  young  commanding  figure 
standing  at  the  edge  of  the  platform,  nor 
catch  the  flash  of  his  brown  eye?  as  he  held 
the  audience  in  his  power  while  he  told  the 
simple  story  of  his  Western  work ;  but  she 
could  hear  the  voice,  and  it  went  straight  to 
her  lonely,  sorrowful  heart.  Straightway  the 
church  with  its  mass  of  packed  humanity,  its 
arched  and  carven  ceiling,  its  magnificent 
stained-glass  windows,  its  wonderful  organ 
and  costly  fittings,  faded  from  her  sight,  and 
overhead  there  arched  a  dome  of  dark  blue 
pierced  with  stars,  and  mountains  in  the  dis 
tance  with  a  canyon  opening,  and  a  flicker 
ing  fire.  She  heard  the  voice  speak  from  its 
natural  setting,  though  her  eyes  were  closed 
and  full  of  tears. 

He  finished  his  story  amid  a  breathless  si 
lence  on  the  part  of  his  audience,  and  then 
with  scarcely  a  break  in  his  voice  spoke  to 
God  in  one  of  his  uplifting  prayers.  The 
girl,  trembling,  almost  sobbing,  felt  herself  in 
cluded  in  the  prayer,  felt  again  the  protection 


204    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  an  unseen  Presence,  felt  the  benediction  in 
his  voice  as  he  said,  "  Amen,"  and  echoed  its 
utmost  meaning  in  her  soul. 

The  audience  was  still  hushed  as  the 
speaker  turned  to  go  to  his  seat  at  the  back 
of  the  platform.  A  storm  of  applause  had 
been  made  impossible  by  that  prayer,  for 
heaven  opened  with  the  words  and  God 
looked  down  and  had  to  do  with  each  soul 
present.  But  the  applause  burst  forth  after 
all  in  a  moment,  for  the  speaker  had  whis 
pered  a  few  words  to  the  moderator  and  was 
hurrying  from  the  platform.  There  were 
cries  of,  "  Don't  go  1  Tell  us  more !  Keep 
on  till  six  o'clock  ! "  Hazel  could  not  see  a 
thing  though  she  stretched  her  neck  and 
stood  upon  the  tips  of  her  toes,  but  she 
clasped  her  hands  tightly  together  when  the 
applause  came,  and  her  heart  echoed  every 
sound. 

The  clamour  ceased  a  moment  as  the  mod 
erator  raised  his  hand,  and  explained  that  the 
brother  to  whom  they  had  all  been  listening 
with  such  pleasure  would  be  glad  to  speak  to 
them  longer,  but  that  he  was  hastening  away 
to  take  the  train  to  see  his  invalid  mother 
who  had  been  waiting  for  two  long  years  for 
her  boy.  A  pause,  a  great  sigh  of  sympathy 
and  disappointment,  and  then  the  applause 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    205 

ourst  forth  again,  and  continued  till  the  young 
missionary  had  left  the  church. 

Hazel,  in  bitter  disappointment,  turned  and 
slipped  out.  She  had  not  caught  a  glimpse 
of  his  beloved  face.  She  exulted  that  she  had 
heard  the  honour  given  him,  been  a  part  of 
those  who  rejoiced  in  his  power  and  conse 
cration,  but  she  could  not  have  him  go  with 
out  having  at  least  one  look  at  him. 

She  hurried  blindly  down  the  stairs,  out  to 
the  street,  and  saw  a  carriage  standing  before 
the  door.  The  carriage  door  had  just  been 
closed,  but  as  she  gazed  he  turned  and  looked 
out  for  an  instant,  lifting  his  hat  in  farewell 
to  a  group  of  ministers  who  stood  on  the 
church  steps.  Then  the  carriage  whirled  him 
away  and  the  world  grew  suddenly  blank. 

She  had  been  behind  the  men  on  the  steps, 
just  within  the  shadow  of  the  dim  doorway. 
He  had  not  seen  her,  and  of  course  would  not 
have  recognized  her  if  he  had ;  yet  now  she 
realized  that  she  had  hoped — oh — what  had 
she  not  hoped  from  meeting  him  here ! 

But  he  was  gone,  and  it  might  be  years 
before  he  came  East  again.  He  had  utterly 
put  her  from  his  life.  He  would  not  think  of 
her  again  if  he  did  come  !  Oh,  the  loneliness 
of  a  world  like  this !  Why,  oh  why,  had  she 
ever  gone  to  the  desert  to  learn  the  emptiness 


206    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  her  life,  when  there  was  no  other  for  het 
anywhere  1 

The  days  that  followed  were  very  sad  and 
hard.  The  only  thought  that  helped  now 
was  that  she  too  had  tried  to  give  her  life  for 
something  worth  while  as  he  had  done,  and 
perhaps  it  might  be  accepted.  But  there  was 
a  deep  unrest  in  her  soul  now,  a  something 
that  she  knew  she  had  not  got  that  she  longed 
inexpressibly  to  have.  She  had  learned  to 
cook  and  to  nurse.  She  was  not  nearly  so 
useless  as  when  she  rode  all  care-free  upon 
the  desert.  She  had  overcome  much  of  her 
unworthiness.  But  there  was  still  one  great 
obstacle  which  unfitted  her  for  companion 
ship  and  partnership  with  the  man  of  the 
desert.  She  had  not  the  something  in  her 
heart  and  life  that  was  the  source  and  centre 
of  self-sacrifice.  She  was  still  unworthy. 

There  was  a  long  letter  about  the  first  of 
June  from  her  friend  in  New  Hampshire,  more 
shakily  written,  she  fancied,  than  those  that 
had  come  before,  and  then  there  came  an  in 
terval  without  any  reply  to  hers.  She  had 
little  time,  however,  to  worry  about  it,  for  the 
weather  was  unusually  warm  and  the  hospital 
was  full.  Her  strength  was  taxed  to  its  ut 
most  to  fill  her  round  of  daily  duties.  Aunt 
Maria  scolded  and  insisted  on  a  vacation,  and 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    207 

finally  in  high  dudgeon  betook  herself  to 
Europe  for  the  summer.  The  few  friends 
with  whom  Hazel  kept  up  any  intercourse 
hurried  away  to  mountains  or  sea,  and  the 
summer  settled  down  to  business. 

And  now  in  the  hot,  hot  nights  when  she 
lay  upon  her  small  bed,  too  weary  almost  to 
sleep,  she  would  fancy  she  heard  again  that 
voice  as  he  spoke  in  the  church,  or  longer 
ago  in  the  desert;  and  sometimes  she  could 
think  she  felt  the  breeze  of  the  desert  night 
upon  her  hot  forehead. 

The  head  nurse  and  the  house  doctor  de 
cided  Radcliffe  needed  a  change  and  sug 
gested  a  few  days  at  the  shore  with  a  con 
valescing  patient,  but  Hazel's  heart  turned 
from  the  thought,  and  she  insisted  upon  stick 
ing  to  her  post.  She  clung  to  the  thought 
that  she  could  at  least  be  faithful.  It  was 
what  he  would  do,  and  in  so  much  she  would 
be  like  him,  and  worthy  of  his  love. 

It  was  the  last  thought  in  her  rnind  before 
she  fainted  on  the  broad  marble  staircase 
with  a  tiny  baby  in  her  arms,  and  fell  to  the 
bottom.  The  baby  was  uninjured,  but  it  took 
a  long  time  to  bring  the  nurse  back  to  con 
sciousness,  and  still  longer  to  put  heart  into 
her  again. 

"She   isn't  fit  for  the  work!"  she  heard 


208    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  biting"  tongue  of  the  head  nurse  declare. 
"  She's  too  frail  and  pretty  and — emotional 
She  feels  everybody's  troubles.  Now  I  never 
let  a  case  worry  me  in  the  least ! "  And  the* 
house  doctor  eyed  her  knowingly  and  said  in 
his  heart : 

"  Any  one  would  know  that." 

But  Hazel,  listening,  was  more  disheart 
ened  than  ever.  Then  here,  too,  she  was 
failing  and  was  adjudged  unworthy ! 

The  next  morning  there  came  a  brief,  blunt 
note  from  Amelia  Ellen :  "  Dear  Mis  Raclift 
Ef  yore  a  trainurse  why  don't  yo  cum  an'  take 
car  o'  my  Mis  Brownleigh  She  aint  long  fer 
heer  an  she's  wearyin  to  see  yo  She  as 
gotta  hev  one,  a  trainurse  I  mean  Yors  re- 
spectfooly  Amelia  Ellen  Stout." 

After  an  interview  with  the  house  doctor 
and  another  with  her  old  family  physician, 
Hazel  packed  up  her  uniforms  and  departed 
for  New  Hampshire. 

It  was  the  evening  of  her  arrival,  after  the 
gentle  invalid  had  been  prepared  for  sleep 
and  left  in  the  quiet  and  dark,  that  Amelia 
Ellen  told  the  story  : 

"  She  ain't  ben  the  same  since  John  went 
back.  Seems  like  she  sort  o'  sensed  thet  he 
wouldn't  come  again  while  she  was  livin'. 
She  tole  me  the  next  day  a  lot  of  things  sho 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    209 

wanted  done  after  she  was  gone,  and  she's 
ben  gettin'  ready  to  leave  this  earth  ever 
since.  Not  that  she's  gloomy,  oh,  my  senses 
no !  She's  jes'  as  interested  as  can  be  in  her 
flowers,  and  in  folks,  an'  the  church,  but  she 
don't  want  to  try  to  do  so  many  things,  and 
she  has  them  weak,  fainty  spells  oftener,  an* 
more  pain  in  her  heart.  She  sits  fer  long 
hours  with  jest  her  Bible  open  now,  but  land, 
she  don't  need  to  read  it!  She  knows  it 
most  by  heart — that  is  the  livin'  parts,  you 
know.  She  don't  seem  to  care  'tall  fer  them 
magazine  articles  now  any  more.  I  wish  t' 
the  land  they'd  be  anuther  Gen'l  'Sembly ! 
Thet  was  the  greatest  thing  fer  her.  She 
jest  acted  like  she  was  tendin'  every  blessed 
one  o'  them  meetin's.  Why,  she  couldn't 
wait  fer  me  t'  git  done  my  breakfast  dishes. 
She'd  want  me  t'  fix  her  up  fer  the  day,  an* 
then  set  down  an'  read  their  doin's.  'We 
kin  let  things  go,  you  know,  'Meelia  Ellen/ 
she'd  say  with  her  sweet  little  smile,  'just 
while  the  meetin's  last.  Then  when  it's  over 
they'll  be  time  'nough  fer  work — an'  rest  too 
'Meelia  Ellen,'  says  she.  Well,  seems  like 
she  was  just  'tendin'  those  meetin's  herself, 
same  es  if  she  was  there.  She'd  take  her 
nap  like  it  was  a  pill,  er  something  and  then 
be  wide  awake  an'  ready  fer  her  afternoon 


2io    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

freshen!  n',  an'  then  she'd  watch  fer  the  stage 
to  bring  the  evenin'  paper.  John,  he  hed  a 
whole  cartload  o'  papers  sent,  an'  the  day  he 
spoke  they  was  so  many  I  jes'  couldn't  get 
my  bread  set.  I  hed  to  borry  a  loaf  off  the 
Inn.  First  time  that's  ever  happened  to  me 
either.  I  jest  hed  to  set  an'  read  till  my  back 
ached,  and  my  eyes  swum.  I  never  read  so 
much  in  my  whole  borned  days  t'  oncet ;  an' 
I've  done  a  good  bit  o'  readin'  in  my  time, 
too,  what  with  nursin'  her  an'  bein*  com 
panion  to  a  perfessor's  invaleed  daughter 
one  summer. 

"  Wai,  seems  like  she  jest  went  on  an'  on, 
gettin'  workeder-up  an'  workeder-up,  till  the 
'Sembly  closed,  an'  he  come ;  and  she  was 
clear  to  the  top  o'  the  heap  all  them  three 
weeks  whilst  he  was  here.  Why,  I  never 
seen  her  so  bright  since  when  I  was  a  little 
girl  an'  went  to  her  Sunday-school  class,  an* 
she  wore  a  poke  bonnet  trimmed  with  lute 
string  ribbon  an'  a  rose  inside.  Talk  'bout 
roses — they  wasn't  one  in  the  garden  as 
bright  an'  pink  as  her  two  cheeks,  an'  her 
eyes  shone  jest  fer  all  the  world  like  his.  I 
was  terrible  troubled  lest  she'd  break  down, 
but  she  didn't.  She  got  brighter  an'  brighter, 
Let  him  take  her  out  ridin',  an'  let  him  carry 
her  into  the  orchard  an'  lay  her  down  undef 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    211 

the  apple  boughs  where  she  could  reach  a 
wild  strawberry  herself.  Why,  she  hedn't 
ben  ofFn  the  porch  sence  he  went  away  two 
years  ago.  But  every  day  he  stayed  she, 
got  brighter.  The  last  day  'fore  he  left  she 
seemed  like  she  wasn't  sick  at  all.  She 
wanted  to  get  up  early,  an'  she  wouldn't 
take  no  nap,  'cause  she  said  she  couldn't 
waste  a  minute  of  the  last  day.  Well,  she 
actu'lly  got  on  her  feet  oncet  an'  made  him 
walk  hw  crost  the  porch.  She  hedn't  ben 
on  her  feet  fer  more'n  a  minute  fer  ten 
months,  an'  'twas  more'n  she  could  stan'. 
She  was  jest  as  bright  an'  happy  all  thet  day, 
an'  whew  he  went  'way  she  waved  her  hand 
as  happy  like  an'  smiled  an'  said  she  was 
glad  to  be  able  to  send  him  back  to  his  work. 
But  she  never  said  a  word  about  his  comin' 
back,  He  kep'  sayin'  he  would  come  back 
next  spring,  but  she  only  smiled,  an'  tole  him 
he  might  not  be  able  to  leave  his  work,  an* 
'twas  all  right.  She  wanted  him  to  be 
faithful. 

"  Well,  he  went,  an*  the  coach  hedn't  no 
more'n  got  down  the  hill  an'  up  again  an 
out  o'  sight  behind  the  bridge  'fore  she  calls 
to  me  an'  she  says,  *  'Meelia  Ellen,  I  believe 
I'm  tired  with  all  the  goin's  on  there's  been, 
an'  if  you  don't  mind  I  think  I'll  take  a  nap. 


212    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

So  I  helps  her  into  her  room  and  fixes  her 
into  her  night  things  an*  thur  she's  laid  ever 
since,  an'  it's  six  whole  weeks  ef  it's  a  day. 
Every  mornin'  fer  a  spell  I'd  go  in  anj  say,, 
1  Ain't  you  ready  fer  me  to  fix  you  fer  the  day. 
Mis'  Brownleigh  ? '  An'  she'd  jest  smile  anf 
say,  '  Well,  I  b'leeve  not  just  now,  'Meelia 
Ellen.  I  think  I'll  just  rest  to-day  yet 
Maybe  I'll  feel  stronger  to-morrow  '  ;  but  to 
morrow  never  comes,  an1  it's  my  thinkin* 
she'll  never  git  up  agin." 

The  tears  were  streaming  down  the  good 
woman's  cheeks  now  and  Hazel's  eyes  were 
bright  with  tears  too.  She  had  noticed  the 
transparency  of  the  delicate  flesh,  the  frail 
ness  of  the  wrinkled  hands.  The  woman's 
words  brought  conviction  to  her  heart  also0 

"What  does  the  doctor  say?"  she  asked, 
catching  at  a  hope. 

"  Well,  he  ain't  much  fer  talk,"  said  Amelia 
Ellen  lifting  her  tear-stained  face  from  her 
gingham  apron  where  it  had  been  bowed. 
"  It  seems  like  them  two  hev  just  got  a  secret 
between  'em  thet  they  won't  say  nothin'  'bout 
it.  Seems  like  he  understands,  and  knows 
she  don't  want  folks  to  talk  about  it  nor 
worry  'bout  her." 

"  But  her  son "  faltered  Hazel.  "  He 

ought  to  be  told  1 " 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    213 

"  Yes,  but  'tain't  no  use  ;  she  won't  let  yeh. 
I  ast  her  oncet  didn't  she  want  me  to  write  him 
to  come  an'  make  her  a  little  visit  just  to  chirk 
her  up,  and  she  shook  her  head  and  looked 
real  frightened,  and  she  says  :  *  'Meelia  Ellen, 
don't  you  never  go  to  sendin'  fer  him  'thout 
lettin'  me  know.  I  should  not  like  it  'tall. 
He's  out  there  doin'  his  work,  an'  I'm  hap 
pier  havin'  him  at  it.  A  missionary  can't 
take  time  traipsin'  round  the  country  every 
time  a  relative  gets  a  little  down.  I'm  jest 
perfectly  all  right,  'Meelia  Ellen,  only  I  went 
pretty  hard  durin'  'Sembly  week,  and  when 
]ohn  was  here,  an'  I'm  restin'  up  fer  a  while. 
If  I  want  John  sent  fer  I'll  tell  you,  but  don't 
you  go  to  doin1  it  'fore  ! '  An'  I  really  b'leeve 
she'd  be  mad  at  me  if  I  did.  She  lots  a  good 
deal  on  givin'  her  son,  an'  it  would  sort  o' 
spoil  her  sakkerfize,  I  s'pose,  to  hev  him  come 
back  every  time  she  hungers  fer  him.  I 
b'leeve  in  my  heart  she's  plannin*  to  slip 
away  quiet  and  not  bother  him  to  say  good 
bye.  It  jest  looks  thet  way  to  me." 

But  the  next  few  days  the  invalid  bright 
ened  perceptibly,  and  Hazel  began  to  be  re 
assured.  Sweet  converse  they  had  together, 
and  the  girl  heard  the  long  pleasant  story  of 
the  son's  visit  home  as  the  mother  dwelt 
lovingly  upon  each  detail  telling  it  over  and 


214    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

over,  until  the  listener  felt  that  every  spot 
within  sight  of  the  invalid's  window  was 
fragrant  with  his  memory.  She  enjoyed  the 
tale  as  much  as  the  teller,  and  knew  just  how 
to  give  the  answer  that  one  loving  woman 
wants  from  another  loving  woman  when  they 
speak  of  the  beloved. 

Then  when  the  story  all  was  told  over  and 
over  and  there  was  nothing  more  to  tell  ex 
cept  the  pleasant  recalling  of  a  funny  speech, 
or  some  tender  happening,  Hazel  began  to 
ask  deeper  questions  about  the  things  of  life 
and  eternity ;  and  step  by  step  the  older 
woman  led  her  in  the  path  she  had  led  her 
f  on  through  all  the  years  of  his  childhood. 

During  this  time  she  seemed  to  grow 
stronger  again.  There  were  days  when  she 
sat  up  for  a  little  while,  and  let  them  put  the 
meals  on  a  tiny  swinging  table  by  her  chair ; 
and  she  took  a  deep  interest  in  leading  the 
girl  to  a  heavenly  knowledge.  Every  day 
she  asked  for  her  writing  materials  and  wrote 
for  a  little  while  ;  yet  Hazel  noticed  that  she 
did  not  send  all  that  she  had  written  in  the 
envelope  of  the  weekly  letters,  but  laid  it 
away  carefully  in  her  writing  portfolio  as  if  it 
were  something  yet  unfinished. 

And  one  evening  in  late  September,  when 
the  last  rays  of  the  sunset  were  lying  across 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    215 

the  foot  of  the  wheeled  chair,  and  Amelia 
Ellen  was  building  a  bit  of  a  fire  in  the  fire 
place  because  it  seemed  chilly,  the  mother 
called  Hazel  to  her  and  handed  her  a  letter 
sealed  and  addressed  to  her  son. 

"  Dear,"  she  said  gently,  "  I  want  you  to 
take  this  letter  and  put  it  away  carefully  and 
keep  it  until  I  am  gone,  and  then  I  want  you 
to  promise  that,  if  possible  for  you  to  do  it, 
you  will  give  it  to  my  son  with  your  own 
hands." 

Hazel  took  the  letter  reverently,  her  heart 
filled  with  awe  and  sorrow  and  stooped 
anxiously  over  her  friend.  "  Oh,  why " 
• — she  cried — "  what  is  the  matter  ?  Do  you 
feel  worse  to-night  ?  You  have  seemed  so 
bright  all  day." 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  the  invalid  cheerily. 
"  But  I  have  been  writing  this  for  a  long  time 
— a  sort  of  good-bye  to  my  boy — and  there 
is  nobody  in  the  world  I  would  like  to  have 
give  it  to  him  as  well  as  you.  Will  it  trouble 
you  to  promise  me,  my  dear  ?  " 

Hazel  with  kisses  and  tears  protested  that 
she  would  be  glad  to  fulfill  the  mission,  but 
begged  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  send  for 
the  beloved  son  at  once,  for  a  sight  of  his 
face,  she  knew,  would  be  good  to  his  mother. 

At  last  her  fears  were  allayed,  though  she 


2i6    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

was  by  no  means  sure  that  the  son  ought  not 
to  be  sent  for,  and  when  the  invalid  was  hap 
pily  gone  to  sleep,  Hazel  went  to  her  room 
and  tried  to  think  how  she  might  write  a  let 
ter  that  would  not  alarm  the  young  man, 
while  yet  it  would  bring  him  to  his  mother's 
side.  She  planned  how  she  would  go  away 
herself  for  a  few  days,  so  that  he  need  not 
find  her  here.  She  wrote  several  stiff  little 
notes  but  none  of  them  satisfied  her.  Her 
heart  longed  to  write :  "  Oh,  my  dear !  Come 
quickly,  for  your  beloved  mother  needs  you. 
Come,  for  my  heart  is  crying  out  for  the  sight 
of  you  !  Come  at  once  ! "  But  finally  before 
she  slept  she  sealed  and  addressed  a  digni 
fied  letter  from  Miss  RadclifTe,  his  mother's 
trained  nurse,  suggesting  that  he  make  at 
least  a  brief  visit  at  this  time  as  she  must  be 
away  for  a  few  days,  and  she  felt  that  his 
presence  would  be  a  wise  thing.  His  mother 
did  not  seem  so  well  as  when  he  was  with 
her.  Then  she  lay  down  comforted  to  sleep. 
But  the  letter  was  never  sent. 
j  In  the  early  dawn  of  the  morning,  when 
the  faithful  Amelia  Ellen  slipped  from  he* 
couch  in  the  alcove  just  off  the  invalid's  room, 
and  went  to  touch  a  match  to  the  carefully 
laid  fire  in  the  fireplace,  she  passed  the  bed 
and,  as  had  been  her  custom  for  years,  glanced 


QUALIFYING  FOR  SERVICE    217 

to  see  if  all  was  well  with  her  patient;  at 
once  she  knew  that  the  sweet  spirit  of  the 
mother  had  fled. 

With  her  face  slightly  turned  away,  a  smile 
of  good-night  upon  her  lips,  and  the  peace 
of  God  upon  her  brow,  the  mother  had  en 
tered  into  her  rest 


XIII 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT 

HAZEL,  with  her  eyes  blinded  with 
tears  and  her  heart  swelling  with 
the  loss  of  the  woman  upon  whose 
tnotherliness  she  had  come  to  feel  a  claim, 
burned  the  letter  she  had  written  the  night 
before,  and  sent  a  carefully  worded  telegram, 
her  heart  yearning  with  sympathy  towairds 
the  bereaved  son. 

"  Your  dear  mother  has  gone  home,  quietly, 
in  her  sleep.  She  did  not  seem  any  worse 
than  usual,  and  her  last  words  were  of  you. 
Let  us  know  at  once  what  plans  we  shall 
make.  Nurse  Radcliffe."  That  was  the  tele 
gram  she  sent. 

Poor  Amelia  Ellen  was  all  broken  up.  He£ 
practical  common  sense  for  once  had  fled  her. 
She  would  do  nothing  but  weep  and  moan 
for  the  beloved  invalid  whom  she  had  served 
so  long  and  faithfully.  It  fell  to  Hazel  to 
make  all  decisions,  though  the  neighbours 
and  old  friends  were  most  kind  with  offers  of 
help.  Hazel  waited  anxiously  for  an  answer 

418 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT    219 

jo  the  telegram,  but  night  fell  and  no  answei 
had  come.  There  had  been  a  storm  and 
something  was  wrong  with  the  wires.  The 
next  morning,  however,  she  sent  another 
telegram,  and  about  noon  still  a  third,  with 
as  yet  no  response.  She  thought  perhaps  he 
had  not  waited  to  telegraph  but  had  started 
immediately,  and  might  be  with  them  in  a 
few  hours.  She  watched  the  evening  stage, 
but  he  did  not  come ;  then  realized  how  her 
heart  was  in  a  flutter,  and  wondered  how  she 
would  have  had  strength  to  meet  him  had  he 
come.  There  was  the  letter  from  his  mother, 
and  her  promise.  She  had  that  excuse  for 
her  presence — of  course  she  could  not  have 
left  under  the  circumstances.  Yet  she  shrank 
from  the  meeting,  for  it  seemed  somehow  a 
breach  of  etiquette  that  she  should  be  the  one 
to  break  the  separation  that  he  had  chosen 
should  b6  between  them. 

However,  he  did  not  come,  and  the  third 
morning,  when  it  became  imperative  that 
something  definite  should  be  known,  a  tele 
gram  to  the  station  agent  in  Arizona  brought 
answer  that  the  missionary  was  away  on  a 
long  trip  among  some  tribes  of  Indians ;  that 
his  exact  whereabouts  was  not  known,  but 
messengers  had  been  sent  after  him,  and 
word  would  be  sent  as  soon  as  possible.  The 


220    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

minister  and  the  old  neighbours  advised  with 
Amelia  Ellen  and  Hazel,  and  made  simple 
plans  for  the  funeral,  yet  hoped  and  delayed 
as  long  as  possible,  and  when  at  last  after  re 
peated  telegrams  there  still  came  the  answer 
J<  Messenger  not  yet  returned,"  they  bore  the 
worn-out  body  of  the  woman  to  a  quiet  rest 
ing  place  beside  her  beloved  husband  in  the 
churchyard  on  the  hillside  where  the  soft 
maples  scattered  bright  covering  over  the  new 
mound,  and  the  sky  arched  high  with  a  kind 
of  triumphant  reminder  of  where  the  spirit 
was  gone. 

Hazel  tried  to  have  every  detail  just  as  she 
thought  he  would  have  liked  it.  The  neigh 
bours  brought  of  their  homely  flowers  in  great 
quantities,  and  some  city  friends  who  had 
been  old  summer  boarders  sent  hot-house 
roses.  The  minister  conducted  the  beautiful 
service  of  faith,  and  the  village  children  sang 
about  the  casket  of  their  old  friend,  who  had 
always  loved  every  one  of  them,  their  hands 
full  of  the  late  flowers  from  her  own  garden, 
bright  scarlet  and  blue  and  gold,  as  though  it 
were  a  joyous  occasion.  Indeed,  Hazel  had 
the  impression,  even  as  she  moved  in  the  hush 
of  the  presence  of  death,  that  she  was  helping 
at  some  solemn  festivity  of  deep  joy  instead 
of  a  funeral — so  glorious  had  been  the  hope 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  the  one  who  was  gone,  so  triumphant  hev 
faith  in  her  Saviour. 

After  the  funeral  was  over  Hazel  sat  down 
and  wrote  a  letter  telling  about  it  all,  filling 
,  it  with  sympathy,  trying  to  show  their  effort 
to  have  things  as  he  would  have  liked  them, 
and  expressing  deep  sorrow  that  they  had 
been  compelled  to  go  on  with  the  service 
without  him. 

That  night  there  came  a  message  from  the 
Arizona  station  agent.  The  missionary  had 
been  found  in  a  distant  Indian  hogan  with  a 
dislocated  ankle.  He  sent  word  that  they 
must  not  wait  for  him ;  that  he  would  get 
there  in  time,  if  possible.  A  later  message 
the  next  day  said  he  was  still  unable  to  travel, 
but  would  get  to  the  railroad  as  soon  as  pos 
sible.  Then  came  an  interval  of  several  days 
without  any  word  from  Arizona. 

Hazel  went  about  with  Amelia  Ellen,  put 
ting  the  house  in  order,  hearing  the  beautiful 
plaint  of  the  loving-hearted,  mourning  serv« 
ant  as  she  told  little  incidents  of  her  mistress. 
Here  was  the  chair  she  sat  in  the  last  time 
she  went  up-stairs  to  oversee  the  spring 
regulating,  and  that  was  Mr.  John's  little 
baby  dress  in  which  he  was  christened.  His 
mother  smoothed  it  out  and  told  her  the 
story  of  his  baby  loveliness  one  day.  She 


222     THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  laid  it  away  herself  in  the  box  with  the 
blue  shoes  and  the  crocheted  cap.  It  was 
the  last  time  she  ever  came  up-stairs. 

There  was  the  gray  silk  dress  she  wore 
to  weddings  and  dinner  parties  before  her 
husband  died,  and  beneath  it  in  the  trunk  was 
the  white  embroidered  muslin  that  was  her 
wedding  gown.  Yellow  with  age  it  was,  and 
delicate  as  a  spider's  web,  with  frostwork  of 
yellowed  broidery  strewn  quaintly  on  its 
ancient  form,  and  a  touch  of  real  lace.  Hazel 
laid  a  reverent  hand  on  the  fine  old  fabric,  and 
felt,  as  she  looked  through  the  treasures  of  the 
old  trunk,  that  an  inner  sanctuary  of  sweet 
ness  had  been  opened  for  her  glimpsing. 

At  last  a  letter  came  from  the  West. 

It  was  addressed  to  "  Miss  Radcliffe, 
Nurse,"  in  Brownleigh's  firm,  clear  hand, 
and  began  :  "  Dear  madam.'*  Hazel's  hand 
trembled  as  she  opened  it,  and  the  "  dear 
madam  "  brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes  ;  but 
then,  of  course,  he  did  not  know. 

He  thanked  her,  with  all  the  kindliness  and 
courtliness  of  his  mother's  son,  for  her  at 
tendance  on  his  dear  mother,  and  told  her  of 
many  pleasant  things  his  mother  had  written 
of  her  ministrations.  He  spoke  briefly  of  his 
being  laid  up  lamed  in  the  Indian  reservation 
and  his  deep  grief  that  he  had  been  unable  to 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT    223 

come  East  to  be  beside  his  mother  during  her 
last  hours,  but  went  on  to  say  that  it  had  been 
his  mother's  wish,  many  times  expressed,  that 
he  should  not  leave  his  post  to  come  to  her 
and  that  there  need  be  "  no  sadness  of  fare 
well"  when  she  "  embarked,"  and  that  though 
it  was  hard  for  him  he  knew  it  was  a  fulfill 
ment  of  his  mother's  desires.  And  now  that 
she  was  gone,  and  the  last  look  upon  her  dear 
face  was  impossible,  he  had  decided  that  he 
could  not  bear  it  just  yet  to  come  home  and 
see  all  the  dear  familiar  places  with  her  face 
gone.  He  would  wait  a  little  while,  until  he 
had  grown  used  to  the  thought  of  her  in 
heaven,  and  then  it  would  not  be  so  hard. 
Perhaps  he  would  not  come  home  until  next 
spring,  unless  something  called  him ;  he 
could  not  tell.  And  in  any  case,  his  injured 
ankle  prevented  him  making  the  journey  at 
present,  no  matter  how  much  he  may  desire 
to  do  so.  Miss  RadclifTe's  letter  had  told 
him  that  everything  had  been  done  just  as  he 
would  have  had  it  done.  There  was  nothing 
further  to  make  it  a  necessity  that  he  shoulc 
come.  He  had  written  to  his  mother's  lawyer 
to  arrange  his  mother's  few  business  affairs, 
and  it  only  remained  for  him  to  express  his 
deep  gratitude  towards  those  who  had  stood 
by  his  dear  mother  when  it  had  been  made 


224    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

impossible  for  him  to  do  so.  He  closed  with 
a  request  that  the  nurse  would  give  him  her 
permanent  address  that  he  might  be  sure  to 
find  her  when  he  found  it  possible  to  come 
East  again,  as  he  would  enjoy  thanking  her 
face  to  face  for  what  she  had  been  to  his 
mother. 

That  was  all. 

Hazel  felt  a  blank  dizziness  settle  down 
over  her  as  she  finished  the  letter.  It  put 
him  miles  away  from  her  again,  with  years 
perhaps  before  another  sight  of  him.  She 
suddenly  seemed  fearfully  alone  in  a  world 
that  no  longer  interested  her.  Where  should 
she  go ;  what  do  with  her  life  now  ?  Back  to 
the  hard  grind  of  the  hospital  with  nobody 
to  care,  and  the  heartrending  scenes  and 
tragedies  that  were  daily  enacted  ?  Some 
how  her  strength  seemed  to  go  from  her  at 
the  thought.  Here,  too,  she  had  failed.  She 
was  not  fit  for  the  life,  and  the  hospital  peo 
ple  had  discovered  it  and  sent  her  away  to 
nurse  her  friend  and  try  to  get  well.  They, 
had  been  kind  and  talked  about  when  shej 
should  return  to  them,  but  she  knew  in  her 
heart  they  felt  her  unfit  and  did  not  want  her 
back. 

Should  she  go  back  to  her  home,  summon 
her  brother  and  aunt,  and  plunge  into  society 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT    225 

again  ?  The  very  idea  sickened  her.  Never 
again  would  she  care  for  that  life,  she  was 
certain.  As  she  searched  her  heart  to  see 
what  it  was  she  really  craved,  if  anything  in 
the  whole  wide  world,  she  found  her  only  in 
terest  was  in  the  mission  field  of  Arizona, 
and  now  that  her  dear  friend  was  gone  she 
was  cut  off  from  knowing  anything  much 
about  that. 

She  gathered  herself  together  after  a  while 
and  told  Amelia  Ellen  of  the  decision  of  Mr. 
Brownleigh,  and  together  they  planned  how 
the  house  should  be  closed,  and  everything 
put  in  order  to  await  its  master's  will  to  re 
turn.  But  that  night  Hazel  could  not  sleep, 
for  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  her  sad  reflec 
tions,  came  the  thought  of  the  letter  that  was 
left  in  her  trust. 

It  had  been  forgotten  during  the  strenuous 
days  that  had  followed  the  death  of  its  writer. 
Hazel  had  thought  of  it  only  once,  and  that 
on  the  first  morning,  with  a  kind  of  comfort- 
.ing  reflection  that  it  would  help  the  son  to 
(bear  his  sorrow,  and  she  was  glad  that  it  was 
her  privilege  to  put  it  into  his  hand.  Then 
the  perplexities  of  the  occasion  had  driven  it 
from  her  thoughts.  Now  it  came  back  like  a 
swift  light  in  a  dark  place.  There  was  yet 
the  letter  which  she  must  give  him.  It  was 


226     THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

a  precious  bond  that  would  hold  him  to  hef 
for  a  little  while  longer.  But  how  should  she 
give  it  to  him? 

Should  she  send  it  by  mail  ?  No,  for  that 
would  not  be  fulfilling  the  letter  of  her  prom 
ise.  She  knew  the  mother  wished  her  to 
give  it  to  him  herself.  Well,  then,  should 
she  write  and  summon  him  to  his  old  home 
at  once,  tell  him  of  the  letter  and  yet  refuse 
to  send  it  to  him  ?  How  strange  that  would 
seem !  How  could  she  explain  it  to  him  ? 
His  mother's  whim  might  be  sacred  to  him — 
would  be,  of  course — but  he  would  think  it 
strange  that  a  young  woman  should  make  so 
much  of  it  as  not  to  trust  the  letter  to  the 
mail  now  that  the  circumstances  made  it  im 
possible  for  him  to  come  on  at  once. 

Neither  would  it  do  for  her  to  keep  the 
letter  until  such  a  time  as  he  should  see  &t 
to  return  to  the  East  and  look  her  up.  It 
might  be  years. 

The  puzzling  question  kept  whirling  itself 
about  in  her  mind  for  hours  until  at  last  she 
formulated  a  plan  which  seemed  to  solve  the 
problem. 

The  plan  was  this.  She  would  coax  Amelia 
Ellen  to  take  a  trip  to  California  with  her,  and 
on  the  way  they  would  stop  in  Arizona  and 
give  the  letter  into  the  hands  of  the  young 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT    22? 

man.  By  that  time  no  doubt  his  injured 
ankle  would  be  sufficiently  strong  to  allow 
his  return  from  the  journey  to  the  Indian  res 
ervation.  She  would  say  that  she  was  going 
West  and,  as  she  had  promised  his  mother  she 
would  put  the  letter  into  his  hands,  she  had 
taken  this  opportunity  to  stop  off  and  keep 
her  promise.  The  trip  would  be  a  good  thing 
for  Amelia  Ellen  too,  and  take  her  mind  oft 
her  loneliness  for  the  mistress  who  was  gone. 

Eagerly  she  broached  the  subject  to  Amelia 
Ellen  the  next  morning,  and  was  met  with  a 
blank  face  of  dismay. 

"  I  couldn't  noways  you'd  fix  it,  my  dearie," 
she  said  sadly  shaking  her  head.  "  I'd  like 
nuthin'  better'n  to  see  them  big  trees  out  in 
Calif orny  I've  been  hearin'  'bout  all  my  life  ; 
an'  summer  an'  winter  with  snow  on  the* 
mountains  what  some  of  the  boarders  't  thv 
inn  tells  'bout;  but  I  can't  bring  it  'bout 
You  see  it's  this  way.  Peter  Burley  'n*  I  ben 
promused  fer  nigh  on  to  twelve  year  now, 
an'  when  he  ast  me  I  said  no,  I  couldn't  leave 
Mis'  Brownleigh  long's  she  needed  me;  an? 
he  sez  will  I  marry  him  the  week  after  she 
dies,  an'  I  sez  I  didn't  like  no  sech  dismal 
way  o'  puttin'  it ;  an'  he  sez  well,  then,  will  I 
marry  him  the  week  after  she  don't  need  me 
no  more ;  an'  I  sez  yes,  I  will,  an'  now  I  gotta 


228    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

keep  my  promus!  I  can't  go  back  on  my 
faithful  word.  I'd  like  real  well  to  see  them 
big  trees,  but  I  gotta  keep  my  promus !  You 
see  he's  waited  long'nough,  an'  he's  ben  real 
patient.  Not  always  he  cud  get  to  see  me 
every  week,  an'  he  might  'a'  tuk  Delmira 
that  cooked  to  the  inn  five  year  ago.  She'd 
'a'  had  him  in  a  minnit,  an'  she  done  her  best 
to  git  him,  but  he  stayed  faithful,  an'  he  sez, 
sez  he,  "Meelia  El'n,  ef  you're  meanin*  to 
keep  your  word,  I'll  wait  ef  k's  a  lifetime, 
but  I  hope  you  won't  make  it  any  longer'n 
you  need ; '  an'  the  night  he  said  that  I 
promused  him  agin  I'd  be  hisn  soon  ez  ever 
I  was  free  to  do's  I  pleased.  I'd  like  to  see 
them  big  trees,  but  I  can't  do  it.  I  jes'  can't 
do  it" 

Now  Hazel  was  not  a  young  woman  who 
was  easily  balked  in  her  plans  when  once 
they  were  made.  She  was  convinced  that 
the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  take  this  trip  and 
that  Amelia  Ellen  was  the  only  person  in  the 
world  she  wanted  for  a  companion  ;  therefore 
she  made  immediate  acquaintance  with  Peter 
Burley,  a  heavy-browed,  thoughtful,  stolid 
man,  who  looked  his  character  of  patient 
lover,  every  inch  of  him,  blue  overalls  and 
all.  Hazel's  heart  almost  misgave  her  as  she 
unfolded  her  plan  to  his  astonished  ears,  and 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT    229 

saw  the  look  of  blank  dismay  that  overspread 
his  face.  However,  he  had  not  waited  all  these 
years  to  refuse  his  sweetheart  anything  in 
reason  now.  He  drew  a  deep  sigh,  inquired 
how  long  the  trip  as  planned  would  take,  al 
lowed  he  "  could  wait  another  month  ef  that 
would  suit,"  and  turned  patiently  to  his  barn 
yard  to  think  his  weary  thoughts,  and  set  his 
hopes  a  little  further  ahead.  Then  Hazel's 
heart  misgave  her.  She  called  after  him  and 
suggested  that  perhaps  he  might  like  to  have 
the  marriage  first  and  go  with  them,  taking 
the  excursion  as  a  wedding  trip.  She  would 
gladly  pay  all  expenses  if  he  would.  But  the 
man  shook  his  head. 

"  I  couldn't  leave  the  stock  fer  that  long, 
ennyhow  you  fix  it.  Thur  ain't  no  one  would 
know  to  take  my  place.  Besides,  I  never  was 
fer  takin'  journeys ;  but  'Meelia  Ellen,  she's 
allus  ben  of  a  sprightlier  disposition,  an'  ef 
she  hez  a  hankerin'  after  Calif orny,  I  'spect 
she'll  be  kinder  more  contented  like  ef  she 
sees  'em  first  an'  then  settles  down  in  Gran- 
ville.  She  better  go  while  she's  got  the 
chancet." 

Amelia  Ellen  succumbed,  albeit  with  tears. 
Hazel  could  not  tell  whether  she  was  more 
glad  or  sad  at  the  prospect  before  her.  Whiles 
Amelia  Ellen  wept  and  bemoaned  the  fate  of 


230    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

poor  Burley,  and  whiles  she  questioned  whethei 
there  really  were  any  big  trees  like  what  you 
saw  in  the  geographies  with  riding  parties 
sitting  contentedly  in  tunnels  through  theii 
trunks.  But  at  last  she  consented  to  go,  and 
with  many  an  injunction  from  the  admiring 
and  envious  neighbours  who  came  to  see  them 
off,  Amelia  Ellen  bade  a  sobbing  good-bye  tc 
her  solemn  lover  in  the  gray  dawn  of  an  Oc 
tober  morning,  climbed  into  the  stage  beside 
Hazel,  and  they  drove  away  into  the  mystery 
of  the  great  world.  As  she  looked  back  at 
her  Peter,  standing  patient,  stooped  and  gray 
in  the  familiar  village  street,  looking  after  his 
departing  sweetheart  who  was  going  out 
sightseeing  into  the  world,  Amelia  Ellen 
would  almost  have  jumped  out  over  the  wheel 
and  run  back  if  it  had  not  been  for  what  the 
neighbours  would  say,  for  her  heart  was  Bur- 
ley's  ;  and  now  that  the  big  trees  were  ac 
tually  pulling  harder  than  Burley,  and  she 
had  decided  to  go  and  see  them,  Burley  be 
gan  by  his  very  acquiescence  to  pull  harder 
than  the  big  trees.  It  was  a  very  teary 
Amelia  Ellen  who  climbed  into  the  train  a 
few  hours  later,  looking  back  dismally,  hope 
lessly,  towards  the  old  stage  they  had  just 
left,  and  wondering  after  all  if  she  ever  would 
get  back  to  Granville  safe  and  alive  again 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  DESERT    233 

Strange  fears  visited  her  of  dangers  that 
might  come  to  Burley  during  her  absence, 
which  if  they  did  she  would  never  forgive 
herself  for  having  left  him ;  strange  horrors 
of  the  way  of  things  that  might  hinder  her 
return  ;  and  she  began  to  regard  her  hitherto 
beloved  travelling  companion  with  almost 
suspicion,  as  if  she  were  a  conspirator  against 
her  welfare. 

However,  as  the  miles  grew  and  the  won 
ders  of  the  way  multiplied,  Amelia  Ellen  be 
gan  to  sit  up  and  take  notice,  and  to  have  a 
sort  of  excited  exultance  that  she  had  come  ; 
for  were  they  not  nearing  the  great  famed 
West  now,  and  would  it  not  soon  be  time  to 
see  the  big  trees  and  turn  back  home  again  ? 
She  was  almost  glad  she  had  come.  She 
would  be  wholly  glad  she  had  done  so  when 
she  had  got  back  safely  home  once  more. 

And  so  one  evening  about  sunset  they  ar 
rived  at  the  little  station  in  Arizona  which 
over  a  year  ago  Hazel  had  left  in  her  father's 
private  car. 


XIV 

HOME 

AMELIA  ELLEN,  stiff  from  the  unac 
customed  travel,  powdered  with  the 
dust  of  the  desert,  wearied  with  the 
excitement  of  travel  and  lack  of  sleep  amid 
her  strange  surroundings,  stepped  down  upon 
the  wooden  platform  and  surveyed  the  mag 
nificent  distance  between  herself  and  any 
where  ;  observed  the  vast  emptiness,  with 
awful  purpling  mountains  and  limitless 
stretches  of  vari-coloured  ground  arched  by  a 
dome  of  sky,  higher  and  wider  and  more  daz- 
zling  than  her  stern  New  Hampshire  soul  had 
ever  conceived,  and  turned  panic-stricten 
back  to  the  train  which  was  already  moving 
away  from  the  little  station.  Her  first  sensa 
tion  had  been  one  of  relief  at  feeling  solid 
ground  under  her  feet  once  more,  for  this  was 
the  first  trip  into  the  world  Amelia  Ellen  had 
ever  made,  and  the  cars  bewildered  her.  Her 
second  impulse  was  to  get  back  into  that  train 
as  fast  as  her  feet  could  carry  her  and  get  this 
awful  journey  done  so  that  she  might  earn 


HOME  233 

the  right  to  return  to  her  quiet  home  and  her 
faithful  lover. 

But  the  train  was  well  under  way.  She 
looked  after  it  half  in  envy.  It  could  go  on 
with  its  work  and  not  have  to  stop  in  this 
wild  waste. 

She  gazed  about  again  with  the  frightened 
look  a  child  deserted  gives  before  it  puckers 
its  lips  and  screams. 

Hazel  was  talking  composedly  with  the 
rough-looking  man  on  the  platform,  who 
wore  a  wide  felt  hat  and  a  pistol  in  his  belt. 
He  didn't  look  even  respectable  to  Amelia 
Ellen's  provincial  eyes.  And  behind  him, 
horror  of  horrors  1  loomed  a  real  live  Indian, 
long  hair,  high  cheek  bones,  blanket  and  all, 
just  as  she  had  seen  them  in  the  geography ! 
Her  blood  ran  cold !  Why,  oh  why,  had  she 
ever  been  left  to  do  this  daring  thing — to 
leave  civilization  and  come  away  from  her 
good  man  and  the  quiet  home  awaiting  her 
to  certain  death  in  the  desert.  All  the  stories 
of  horrid  scalpings  she  had  ever  heard  ap 
peared  before  her  excited  vision.  With  a 
gasp  she  turned  again  to  the  departing  train, 
which  had  become  a  mere  speck  on  the  des 
ert,  and  even  as  she  looked  vanished  around 
a  curve  and  was  lost  in  the  dim  foot-hills  of  a 
mountain  I 


234    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Poor  Amelia  Ellen  !  Her  head  reeled  and 
her  heart  sank.  The  vast  prairie  engulfed 
her,  as  it  were,  and  she  stood  trembling  and 
staring  in  dazed  expectancy  of  an  attack 
from  earth  or  air  or  sky.  The  very  sky  and 
ground  seemed  tottering  together  and  threat 
ening  to  extinguish  her,  and  she  closed  her 
eyes,  caught  her  breath  and  prayed  for 
Peter.  It  had  been  her  habit  always  in  any 
emergency  to  pray  for  Peter  Burley. 

It  was  no  better  when  they  took  her  to  the 
eating-house  across  the  track.  She  picked 
her  way  among  the  evil-looking  men,  and 
surveyed  the  long  dining  table  with  its  burden 
of  coarse  food  and  its  board  seats  with  dis 
dain,  declined  to  take  off  her  hat  when  she 
reached  the  room  to  which  the  slatternly 
woman  showed  them  because  she  said  there 
was  no  place  to  lay  it  down  that  was  fit  ; 
scorned  the  simple  bed,  refused  to  wash  her 
hands  at  the  basin  furnished  for  all,  and  made 
herself  more  disagreeable  than  Hazel  had 
dreamed  her  gentle,  serviceable  Amelia  Ellen 
ever  could  have  been.  No  supper  would  she 
eat,  nor  would  she  remain  long  at  the  table 
after  the  men  began  to  file  in,  with  curious 
eyes  towards  the  strangers. 

She  stalked  to  the  rough,  unroofed  porch 
In  the  front  and  stared  off  at  the  dark  vast- 


HOME  235 

ness,  afraid  of  the  wild  strangeness,  afraid  ok 
the  looming  mountains,  afraid  of  the  multi 
tude  of  stars.  She  said  it  was  ridiculous  to 
have  so  many  stars.  It  wasn't  natural.  It 
was  irreverent.  It  was  like  looking  too  close 
into  heaven  when  you  weren't  intended  to. 

And  then  a  blood-curdling  sound  arose ! 
It  made  her  very  hair  stand  on  end.  She 
turned  with  wild  eyes  and  grasped  Hazel's 
arm,  but  she  was  too  frightened  to  utter  a 
sound.  Hazel  had  just  come  out  to  sit  with 
her.  The  men  out  of  deference  to  the 
strangers  had  withdrawn  from  their  cus 
tomary  smoking  place  on  the  porch  to  the 
back  of  the  wood-pile  behind  the  house. 
They  were  alone — the  two  women — out  there 
in  the  dark,  with  that  awful,  awful  sound  ! 

Amelia  Ellen's  white  lips  framed  the  words 
"  Indians  "  ?  "  War-whoop  "  ?  but  her  throat 
refused  her  sound  and  her  breath  came  short. 

"  Coyotes  !  "  laughed  Hazel,  secure  in  her 
wide  experience,  with  almost  a  joyous  ring  to 
her  voice.  The  sound  of  those  distant  beasts 
assured  her  that  she  was  in  the  land  of  her 
beloved  at  last  and  her  soul  rejoiced. 

"  Coy — oh "  but  Amelia  Ellen's  voice 

was  lost  in  the  recesses  of  her  skimpy  pillow 
whither  she  had  fled  to  bury  her  startled  ears. 
She  had  heard  of  coyotes,  but  she  had  neve! 


236    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

imagined  to  hear  one  outside  of  a  zoological 
garden,  of  which  she  had  read  and  always 
hoped  one  day  to  visit.  There  she  lay  on  her 
hard  little  bed  and  quaked  until  Hazel, 
laughing  still,  came  to  find  her ;  but  all  she 
could  get  from  the  poor  soul  was  a  pitiful 
plaint  about  Burley.  "  And  what  would  he 
say  if  I  was  to  be  et  with  one  of  them  crea 
tures?  He'd  neverJorgive  me,  never,  never 
s'long  's  I  lived  !  I  hadn't  ough'  to  'a1 
come.  I  hadn't  ough'  to  'a'  come  !  " 

Nothing  Hazel  could  say  would  allay  her 
fears.  She  listened  with  horror  as  the  girl 
attempted  to  show  how  harmless  the  beasts 
were  by  telling  of  her  own  night  ride  up  the 
canyon,  and  how  nothing  harmed  her. 
Amelia  Ellen  merely  looked  at  her  with 
frozen  glance  made  fiercer  by  the  flickering 
candle  flare,  and  answered  dully  :  "  An'  you 
knew  'bout  'em  all  'long,  an'  yet  you  brung 
me !  It  ain't  what  I  thought  you'd  do ! 
Burley,  he'll  never  fergive  me  s'long  's  I  live 
ef  I  get  et  up.  It  ain't  ez  if  I  was  all  alone  in 
the  world,  you  know.  I  got  him  to  think  of 
an'  I  can't  afford  to  run  no  resks  of  bein*  et, 
efyou  can" 

Not  a  wink  of  sleep  did  she  get  that  night 
and  when  the  morning  dawned  and  to  the 
horrors  of  the  night  were  added  a  telegram 


HOME  237 

from  a  neighbour  of  Burley 's  saying  that 
Burley  had  fallen  from  the  haymow  and 
broken  his  leg,  but  he  sent  his  respects  and 
hoped  they'd  have  a  good  journey,  Amelia 
Ellen  grew  uncontrollable.  She  declared  she 
would  not  stay  in  that  awful  country  another 
minute.  That  she  would  take  the  first  train 
back — back  to  her  beloved  New  Hampshire 
which  she  never  again  would  leave  so  long  as 
her  life  was  spared,  unless  Burley  went  along. 
She  would  not  even  wait  until  Hazel  had  de 
livered  her  message.  How  could  two  lone 
women  deliver  a  message  in  a  land  like  that  ? 
Never,  never  would  she  ride,  drive  or  walk, 
no,  nor  even  set  foot  on  the  sand  of  thfc 
desert.  She  would  sit  by  the  track  until  a 
train  came  along  and  she  would  not  even  look 
further  than  she  need.  The  frenzy  of  fear 
which  sometimes  possesses  simple  people  at 
sight  of  a  great  body  of  water,  or  a  roaring 
torrent  pouring  over  a  precipice,  had  taken 
possession  of  her  at  sight  of  the  desert.  It 
rilled  her  soul  with  its  immensity,  and  poor 
Amelia  Ellen  had  a  great  desire  to  sit  down 
on  the  wooden  platform  and  grasp  firm  hold 
of  something  until  a  train  came  to  rescue  her 
from  this  awful  emptiness  which  had  tried  to 
swallow  her  up. 

Poor  Peter,  with  his  broken  leg,  was  her 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

weird  cry  !  One  would  think  she  had  broken 
it  with  the  wheels  of  the  car  in  which  she  had 
travelled  away  from  him  by  the  way  she  took 
on  about  it  and  blamed  herself.  The  tragedy 
of  a  broken  vow  and  its  consequences  was  the 
subject  of  her  discourse.  Hazel  laughed, 
then  argued,  and  finally  cried  and  besought; 
but  nothing  could  avail.  Go  she  would,  and 
that  speedily,  back  to  her  home. 

When  it  became  evident  that  arguments 
and  tears  were  of  no  use  and  that  Amelia 
Ellen  was  determined  to  go  home  with  or 
without  her,  Hazel  withdrew  to  the  front 
porch  and  took  counsel  with  the  desert  in  its 
morning  brightness,  with  the  purple  luring 
mountains,  and  the  smiling  sky.  Go  back 
on  the  train  that  would  stop  at  the  station  in 
half  an  hour,  with  the  desert  there,  and  the 
wonderful  land,  and  its  strange,  wistful 
people,  and  not  even  see  a  glimpse  of  him 
she  loved  ?  Go  back  with  the  letter  still  in 
her  possession  and  her  message  still  ungiven  ? 
Never !  Surely  she  was  not  afraid  to  stay 
long  enough  to  send  for  him.  The  woman 
who  had  fed  them  and  sheltered  them  for  the 
night  would  be  her  protector.  She  would 
stay.  There  must  be  some  woman  of  refine* 
ment  and  culture  somewhere  near  by  to  whom 
she  could  go  for  a  few  days  until  her  errand 


HOME  239 

was  performed  ;  and  what  was  her  training 
in  the  hospital  worth  if  it  did  not  give  her 
some  independence  ?  Out  here  in  the  wild  free 
West  women  had  to  protect  themselves.  She 
could  surely  stay  in  the  uncomfortable  quar 
ters  where  she  was  for  another  day  until  she 
could  get  word  to  the  missionary.  Then  she 
could  decide  whether  to  proceed  on  her  jour 
ney  alone  to  California,  or  to  go  back  home. 
There  was  really  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  travel  alone  if  she  chose  ;  plenty  of  young 
women  did  and,  anyway,  the  emergency  was 
not  of  her  choosing.  Amelia  Ellen  would 
make  herself  sick  fretting  over  her  Burley, 
that  was  plain,  if  she  were  detained  even  a 
few  hours.  Hazel  came  back  to  the  nearly 
demented  Amelia  Ellen  with  her  chin  tilted 
firmly  and  a  straight  little  set  of  her  sweet 
lips  which  betokened  stubbornness.  The 
train  came  in  a  brief  space  of  time,  and, 
weeping  but  firm,  Amelia  Ellen  boarded  it, 
dismayed  at  the  thought  of  leaving  her  dear 
young  lady,  yet  stubbornly  determined  to  got 
Hazel  gave  her  the  ticket  and  plenty  of 
money,  charged  the  conductor  to  look  after 
her,  waved  a  brave  farewell  and  turned  back 
to  the  desert  alone. 

A  brief  conference  with  the  woman  who 
had  entertained  them,  who  was  also  the  wife 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  the  station  agent,  brought  out  the  fact  that 
the  missionary  was  not  yet  returned  from 
his  journey,  but  a  message  received  from 
him  a  few  days  before  spoke  of  his  prob- 
ible  return  on  the  morrow  or  the  day  after. 
The  woman  advised  that  the  lady  go  to  the 
fort  where  visitors  were  always  welcomed 
and  where  there  were  luxuries  more  fitted  to 
the  stranger's  habit.  She  eyed  the  dainty 
apparel  of  her  guest  enviously  as  she  spoke, 
and  Hazel,  keenly  alive  to  the  meaning  of 
her  look,  realized  that  the  woman,  like  the 
missionary,  had  judged  her  unfit  for  life  in 
the  desert.  She  was  half  determined  to  stay 
where  she  was  until  the  missionary's  return, 
and  show  that  she  could  adapt  herself  to  any 
surroundings,  but  she  saw  that  the  woman 
was  anxious  to  have  her  gone.  It  probably 
put  her  out  to  have  a  guest  of  another  world 
than  her  own. 

The  woman  told  her  that  a  trusty  Indian 
messenger  was  here  from  the  fort  and  was 
riding  back  soon.  If  the  lady  cared  she 
could  get  a  horse  and  go  under  his  escort. 
She  opened  her  eyes  in  wonder  when  Hazel 
asked  if  there  was  to  be  a  woman  in  the 
party,  and  whether  she  could  not  leave  her 
work  for  a  little  while  and  ride  over  with  them 
if  she  would  pay  her  well  for  the  service. 


HOME  241 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  bring  none  o'  them  fine 
lady  airs  out  herel"  she  declared  rudely, 
"  We-all  ain't  got  time  fer  no  sech  foolery, 
You  needn't  be  afraid  to  go  back  with  Joe 
He  takes  care  of  the  women  at  the  fort.  He'll 
look  after  you  fine.  You'll  mebbe  kin  hire  a 
horse  to  ride,  an'  strop  yer  baggage  on.  Yer 
trunk  ye  kin  leave  here." 

Hazel,  half  frightened  at  the  position  she 
had  allowed  herself  to  be  placed  in,  consid 
ered  the  woman's  words,  and  when  she  had 
looked  upon  the  Indian's  stolid  countenance 
decided  to  accept  his  escort.  He  was  an  old 
man  with  furrowed  face  and  sad  eyes  that 
looked  as  if  they  could  tell  great  secrets,  but 
there  was  that  in  his  face  that  made  her  trust 
him,  she  knew  not  why. 

An  hour  later,  her  most  necessary  baggage 
strapped  to  the  back  of  the  saddle  on  a 
wicked-looking  little  pony,  Hazel,  with  a 
sense  of  deep  excitement,  mounted  and  rode 
away  behind  the  solemn,  silent  Indian.  She 
was  going  to  the  fort  to  ask  shelter,  until 
her  errand  was  accomplished,  of  the  only 
women  in  that  region  who  would  be  likely 
to  take  her  in.  She  had  a  feeling  that  the 
thing  she  was  doing  was  a  most  wild  and  un 
conventional  proceeding  and  would  come  un 
der  the  grave  condemnation  of  her  aunt,  and 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

all  her  New  York  friends.  She  was  most 
thankful  that  they  were  far  away  and  could 
not  interfere,  for  somehow  she  felt  that  she 
must  do  it  anyway.  She  must  put  that  let 
ter,  with  her  own  hands,  into  the  possession 
of  its  owner. 

It  was  a  most  glorious  morning.  The 
earth  and  the  heavens  seemed  newly  made 
for  the  day.  Hazel  felt  a  gladness  in  her 
soul  that  would  not  down,  even  when  she 
thought  of  poor  Amelia  Ellen  crouched  in 
her  corner  of  the  sleeper,  miserable  at  her 
desertion,  yet  determined  to  go.  She  thought 
of  the  dear  mother,  and  wondered  if  'twere 
gi^en  to  her  to  know  now  how  she  was  try- 
in£  to  fulfill  her  last  wish.  It  was  pleasant 
to  think  she  knew  and  was  glad,  and  Hazel 
felt  as  though  her  presence  were  near  and 
protecting  her. 

The  silent  Indian  made  few  remarks.  He 
rode  ahead  always  with  a  grave,  thoughtful 
expression,  like  a  student  whose  thoughts  are 
not  to  be  disturbed.  He  nodded  gravely  in 
answer  to  the  questions  Hazel  asked  him 
whenever  they  stopped  to  water  the  horses, 
but  he  volunteered  no  information  beyond 
calling  her  attention  to  a  lame  foot  her  pony 
developing. 

Several  times  Joe  got  down  and  examined 


HOME  243 

the  pony's  foot,  and  shook  his  head,  with  a 
grunt  of  worried  disapproval.  Presently  as 
the  miles  went  by  Hazel  began  to  notice  the 
pony's  lameness  herself,  and  became  alarmed 
lest  he  would  break  down  altogether  in  the 
midst  of  the  desert.  Then  what  would  the 
Indian  do  ?  Certainly  not  give  her  his  horse 
and  foot  it,  as  the  missionary  had  done.  She 
could  not  expect  that  every  man  in  this  desert 
was  like  the  one  who  had  cared  for  her  before. 
What  a  foolish  girl  she  had  been  to  get  her 
self  into  this  fix!  And  now  there  was  no 
father  to  send  out  search  parties  for  her,  and 
no  missionary  at  home  to  find  her  I 

The  dust,  the  growing  heat  of  the  day,  and 
the  anxiety  began  to  wear  upon  her.  She 
was  tired  and  hungry,  and  when  at  noon  the 
Indian  dismounted  beside  a  water-hole  where 
the  water  tasted  of  sheep  who  had  passed 
through  but  a  short  time  before,  and  handed 
her  a  package  of  corn  bread  and  cold  bacon, 
while  he  withdrew  to  the  company  of  the 
horses  for  his  own  siesta,  she  was  feign  to 
put  her  head  down  on  the  coarse  grass  and 
weep  for  her  folly  in  coming  out  to  this  wild 
country  alone,  or  at  least  in  being  so  head* 
strong  as  to  stay  when  Amelia  Ellen  deserted 
her.  Then  the  thought  suddenly  occurred 
to  her:  how  would  Amelia  Ellen  have  figured 


244    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

in  this  morning's  journey  on  horseback ;  and 
instead  of  weeping  she  fell  to  laughing  al 
most  hysterically. 

She  munched  the  corn  bread — the  bacon 
she  could  not  eat — and  wondered  if  the 
woman  at  the  stopping-place  had  realized 
what  an  impossible  lunch  she  had  provided 
for  her  guest.  However,  here  was  one  of  the 
tests.  She  was  not  worth  much  if  a  little 
thing  like  coarse  food  annoyed  her  so  much. 
She  drank  some  of  the  bitter  water,  and 
bravely  ate  a  second  piece  of  corn  bread  and 
tried  to  hope  her  pony  would  be  all  right 
after  his  rest  But  it  was  evident  after  they 
had  gone  a  mile  or  two  further  that  the  pony 
was  growing  worse.  He  lagged,  and  limped, 
and  stopped,  and  it  seemed  almost  cruel  to 
urge  him  further,  yet  what  could  be  done? 
The  Indian  rode  behind  now,  watching  him 
and  speaking  in  low  grunts  to  him  occasion 
ally,  and  finally  they  came  in  sight  of  a  speck 
of  a  building  in  the  distance.  Then  the  Indian 
spoke.  Pointing  towards  the  distant  building, 
which  seemed  too  tiny  for  human  habitation, 
he  said  :  "  Aneshodi  hogan.  Him  friend  me. 
Lady  stay.  Me  come  back  good  horse. 
Pony  no  go  more.  He  bad  ! " 

Dismay  filled  the  heart  of  the  lady.  She 
gathered  that  her  guide  wished  to  leave  he* 


HOME  245 

by  the  way  while  he  went  on  for  another  horse, 
and  maybe  he  would  return  and  maybe  not. 
Meantime,  what  kind  of  a  place  was  he  leav 
ing  her  in  ?  Would  there  be  a  woman  there  ? 
Even  if  she  were  an  Indian  woman  that  would 
not  be  so  bad.  "  Aneshodi "  sounded  as  if  it 
might  be  a  woman's  name. 

"Is  this  Aneshodi  a  woman?"  she  ques 
tioned. 

The  Indian  shook  his  head  and  grunted. 
"  Na,  na.  Aneshodi,  Aneshodi.  Him  friend 
me.  Him  good  friend.  No  woman  1 "  (In 
scorn.) 

"  Is  there  no  woman  in  the  house  ?  "  she 
asked  anxiously. 

"  Na !  Him  heap  good  man.  Good  ho- 
gan.  Lady  stay.  Rest." 

Suddenly  her  pony  stumbled  and  nearly 
fell.  She  saw  that  she  could  not  depend  on 
him  for  long  now. 

"Couldn't  I  walk  with  you?"  she  asked, 
her  eyes  pleading.  "I  would  rather  walk 
than  stay.  Is  it  far  ?  " 

The  Indian  shook  his  head  vigorously. 

"Lady  no  walk.  Many  suns  lady  walk. 
Great  mile.  Lady  stay.  Me  ride  fast.  Back 
sundown,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  sun  which 
was  even  now  beginning  its  downward 
course. 


246    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Hazel  saw  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
do  as  the  Indian  said,  and  indeed  his  words 
seemed  reasonable,  but  she  was  very  much 
frightened.  What  kind  of  a  place  was  this 
in  which  she  was  to  stay  ?  As  they  neared 
it  there  appeared  to  be  nothing  but  a  little 
weather-beaten  shanty,  with  a  curiously  famil 
iar  look,  as  if  she  had  passed  that  way  before, 
A  few  chickens  were  picking  about  the  yard, 
and  a  vine  grew  over  the  door,  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  human  being  about  and  the  des 
ert  stretched  wide  and  barren  on  every  side. 
Her  old  fear  of  its  vastness  returned,  and  she 
began  to  have  a  fellow  feeling  with  Amelia 
Ellen.  She  saw  now  that  she  ought  to  have 
gone  with  Amelia  Ellen  back  to  civilization 
and  found  somebody  who  would  have  come 
with  her  on  her  errand.  But  then  the  letter 
would  have  been  longer  delayed  ! 

The  thought  of  the  letter  kept  up  her 
courage,  and  she  descended  dubiously  from 
her  pony's  back,  and  followed  the  Indian  to 
the  door  of  the  shanty.  The  vine  growing 
luxuriantly  over  window  and  casement  and 
door  frame  reassured  her  somewhat,  she 
could  not  tell  just  why.  Perhaps  somebody 
with  a  sense  of  beauty  lived  in  the  ugly  little 
building,  and  a  man  with  a  sense  of  beauty 
could  not  be  wholly  bad.  But  how  was  she 


HOME  247 

to  stay  alone  in  a  man's  house  where  no 
woman  lived  ?  Perhaps  the  man  would  have 
a  horse  to  lend  or  sell  them.  She  would 
offer  any  sum  he  wanted  if  she  only  could  get 
to  a  safe  place. 

But  the  Indian  did  not  knock  at  the  door 
as  she  had  expected  he  would  do.  Instead 
he  stooped  to  the  lower  step,  and  putting  his 
hand  into  a  small  opening  in  the  woodwork 
of  the  step,  fumbled  there  a  minute  and 
presently  brought  out  a  key  which  he  fitted 
into  the  lock  and  threw  the  door  wide  open 
to  her  astonished  gaze. 

"  Him  friend  me  1 "  explained  the  Indian 
again. 

He  walked  into  the  room  with  the  manner 
of  a  partial  proprietor  of  the  place,  looked 
about,  stooped  down  to  the  fireplace  where  a 
fire  was  neatly  laid,  and  set  it  blazing  up 
cheerfully ;  took  the  water  bucket  and  filled 
it,  and  putting  some  water  into  the  kettle 
swung  it  over  the  blaze  to  heat,  then  turning, 
he  spoke  again : 

"  Lady  stay.  Me  come  back — soon.  Sup 
no  go  down.  Me  come  back ;  good  horse 
get  lady." 

"  But  where  is  the  owner  of  this  house  ? 
What  will  he  think  of  my  being  here  when 
he  comes  back?  "  said  Hazel,  more  frightened 


248    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

than  ever  at  the  prospect  of  being  left.  She 
had  not  expected  to  stay  entirely  alone.  She 
had  counted  on  finding  some  one  in  the 
house. 

"  Aneshodi  way  off.  Not  come  back  one 
— two — day  mebbe  !  He  know  me.  He  me 
friend.  Lady  stay  1  All  right ! " 

Hazel,  her  eyes  large  with  fear,  watched  her 
protector  mount  and  ride  away.  Almost  she 
called  after  him  that  he  must  not  leave  her  ; 
then  she  remembered  that  this  was  a  part 
of  a  woman's  life  in  Arizona,  and  she  was 
being  tried.  It  was  just  such  things  as  this 
the  missionary  had  meant  when  he  said  she 
was  unfit  for  life  out  here.  She  would  stay 
and  bear  the  loneliness  and  fright.  She 
would  prove,  at  least  to  herself,  that  she  had 
the  courage  of  any  missionary.  She  would 
not  bear  the  ignominy  of  weakness  and 
failure.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  her  all  her 
life  to  know  she  had  failed  in  this  trying 
time. 

She  watched  the  Indian  riding  rapidly 
away  as  if  he  were  in  hot  haste.  Once  the 
suspicion  crossed  her  mind  that  perhaps  he 
had  lamed  her  horse  on  purpose,  and  left  her 
here  just  to  get  rid  of  her.  Perhaps  this  was 
the  home  of  some  dreadful  person  who  would 
return  soon  and  do  her  harm. 


HOME  249 

She  turned  quickly,  with  alarm  in  her 
heart,  to  see  what  manner  of  place  she  was 
in,  for  she  had  been  too  excited  at  first  over 
the  prospect  of  being  left  to  notice  it  much, 
save  to  be  surprised  that  there  were  chairs,  a 
fireplace,  and  a  look  of  comparative  comfort 
Now  she  looked  about  to  find  out  if  possible 
just  what  sort  of  a  person  the  owner  might 
be,  and  glancing  at  the  table  near  the  fire 
place  the  first  object  her  eye  fell  upon  was  an 
open  book,  and  the  words  that  caught  her 
vision  were  :  "He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret 
place  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty  !  " 

With  a  start  she  turned  the  book  over  and 
found  it  was  a  Bible,  bound  in  plain,  strong 
covers,  with  large,  clear  print,  and  it  lay 
open  as  if  the  owner  had  been  reading  it  but 
a  short  time  before  and  had  been  called  sud 
denly  away. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  she  sank  down  in  the 
big  chair  by  the  fire  and  let  the  excited  tears 
have  their  way.  Somehow  her  fear  all 
vanished  with  that  sentence.  The  owner  of 
the  house  could  not  be  very  bad  when  he 
kept  his  Bible  about  and  open  to  that  psalm, 
her  psalm,  her  missionary's  psalm  !  And 
there  was  assurance  in  the  very  words  them 
selves,  as  if  they  had  been  sent  to  remind  her 


250    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  her  new  trust  in  an  Unseen  Power,  If  sh* 
was  making  the  Most  High  her  dwelling 
place  continually,  surely  she  was  under  His 
protection  continually,  and  had  no  need  to  be 
afraid  anywhere,  for  she  was  abiding  in  Him, 
The  thought  gave  her  a  strange  new  sense  ot 
sweetness  and  safety. 

After  a  moment  she  sat  up  wiping  away 
the  tears  and  began  to  look  around.  Per 
haps  this  was  the  home  of  some  friend  of  her 
missionary.  She  felt  comforted  about  stay 
ing  here  now.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  wall 
above  the  mantel  and  \o}  there  smiled  the 
face  of  her  dear  friend,  the  mother,  who  had 
just  gone  home  to  heaven,  and  beneath  it — 
as  if  that  were  not  enough  to  bring  a  throb 
of  understanding  and  joy  to  her  heart — be 
neath  it  hung  her  own  little  jewelled  riding 
whip  which  she  had  left  on  the  desert  a  year 
ago  and  forgotten. 

Suddenly,  with  a  ay  of  joy,  she  rose  and 
clasped  her  hands  over  her  heart,  relief  and 
happiness  in  every  line  of  her  face. 

"  It  is  his  home  !  I  have  come  to  his  own 
house  !  "  she  cried  and  looked  about  her  with 
the  joy  of  discovery.  This  then  was  where 
he  lived — there  were  his  books,  here  his  chair 
where  he  sat  and  rested  or  studied — his 
hands  had  left  the  Bible  open  at  her  psalm. 


HOME  25  iv 

his  psalm — their  psalm  !  There  was  his  couch 
over  behind  the  screen,  and  at  the  other  end 
the  tiny  table  and  the  dishes  in  the  closet ! 
Everything  was  in  place,  and  careful  neat 
ness  reigned,  albeit  an  air  of  manlike  uncer 
tainty  about  some  things. 

She  went  from  one  end  to  the  other  of  the 
big  room  and  back  again,  studying  every  de 
tail,  revelling  in  the  thought  that  now,  what 
ever  came  to  her,  she  might  take  back  with 
her  a  picture  of  himself  in  his  own  quiet  room 
when  his  work  was  laid  aside  for  a  little,  and 
when,  if  ever  he  had  time  and  allowed  him 
self,  he  perhaps  thought  of  her. 

Time  flew  on  winged  feet.  With  the  dear 
face  of  her  old  friend  smiling  down  upon  her 
and  that  psalm  open  beside  her  on  the  table, 
she  never  thought  of  fear.  And  presently 
she  remembered  she  was  hungry,  and  went 
foraging  in  the  cupboard  for  something  to 
eat.  Sne  found  plenty  of  supplies,  and  after 
she  had  satisfied  her  hunger  sat  down  in  the 
great  chair  by  the  fire  and  looked  about  her 
in  contentment.  With  the  peace  of  the  room, 
his  room,  upon  her,  and  the  sweet  old  face 
from  the  picture  looking  down  in  benediction 
as  if  in  welcome,  she  felt  happier  than  since 
her  father  had  died. 

The  quiet  of  the  desert  afternoon  brooded 


252    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

outside,  the  fire  burned  softly  lower  and  low** 
at  her  side,  the  sun  bent  down  to  the  west, 
and  long  rays  stole  through  the  window  and 
across  at  her  feet,  but  the  golden  head  was 
drooping  and  the  long-lashed  eyes  were 
closed.  She  was  asleep  in  his  chair,  and 
the  dying  firelight  played  over  her  face. 

Then,  quietly,  without  any  warning,  the 
door  opened  and  a  man  walked  into  the 
ooml 


XV 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS 

THE  missionary  had  been  a  far  jour 
ney  to  an  isolated  tribe  of  Indians 
outside  his  own  reservation.     It  was 
his  first  visit  to  them  since  the  journey  he 
had  taken  with  his  colleague,  and  of  which 
he  had  told  Hazel  during  their  companion 
ship  in  the  desert.     He  had  thought  to  go 
sooner,   but    matters   in   his   own   extended 
parish,  and  his  trip  East,  had  united  to  pre 
vent  him. 

They  had  lain  upon  his  heart,  these  lonely, 
isolated  people  of  another  age,  living  amid 
the  past  in  their  ancient  houses  high  up  on 
the  cliffs  ;  a  little  handful  of  lonely,  primitive 
children,  existing  afar ;  knowing  nothing  of 
God  and  little  of  man ;  with  their  strange, 
simple  ways,  and  their  weird  appearance. 
They  had  come  to  him  in  visions  as  he 
prayed,  and  always  with  a  weight  upon  his 
soul  as  of  a  message  undelivered. 

He  had  taken  his  first  opportunity  after  his 
return  from  the  East  to  go  to  them ;  but  it 
had  not  been  as  soon  as  he  had 


254    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Matters  in  connection  with  the  new  churcfc 
had  demanded  his  attention,  and  then  when 
they  were  arranged  satisfactorily  one  of  his 
flock  was  smitten  with  a  lingering  illness,  and 
so  hung  upon  his  friendship  and  companion 
ship  that  he  could  not  with  a  clear  conscience 
go  far  away.  But  at  last  all  hindrances  sub 
sided  and  he  went  forth  on  his  mission. 

The  Indians  had  received  him  gladly, 
noting  his  approach  from  afar  and  coming 
down  the  steep  way  to  meet  him,  putting 
their  rude  best  at  his  disposal,  and  opening 
their  hearts  to  him.  No  white  man  had  vis 
ited  them  since  his  last  coming  with  his 
friend,  save  a  trader  who  had  lost  his  way, 
and  who  knew  little  about  the  God  of  whom 
the  missionary  had  spoken,  or  the  Book  of 
Heaven ;  at  least  he  had  not  seemed  to  un 
derstand.  Of  these  things  he  was  as  igno 
rant,  perhaps,  as  they. 

The  missionary  entered  into  the  strange 
family  life  of  the  tribe  who  inhabited  the  vast, 
many-roomed  palace  of  rock  carved  high  at  the 
top  of  the  cliff.  He  laughed  with  them,  ate 
with  them,  slept  with  them,  and  in  every  way 
gained  their  full  confidence.  He  played  with 
their  little  children,  teaching  them  many  new 
games  and  amusing  tricks,  and  praising  the 
quick  wits  of  the  little  ones ;  while  their 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS      255 

elders  stood  about,  the  stolid  look  of  their 
dusky  faces  relaxed  into  smiles  of  deep  in 
terest  and  admiration. 

And  then  at  night  he  told  them  of  the  God 
who  set  the  stars  above  them  ;  who  made  the 
earth  and  them,  and  loved  them ;  and  of 
Jesus,  His  only  Son,  who  came  to  die  for 
them  and  who  would  not  only  be  their 
Saviour,  but  their  loving  companion  by  day 
and  by  night ;  unseen,  but  always  at  hand, 
caring  for  each  one  of  His  children  individ 
ually,  knowing  their  joys  and  their  sorrows. 
Gradually  he  made  them  understand  that  he 
was  the  servant — the  messenger — of  this 
Christ,  and  had  come  there  for  the  express 
purpose  of  helping  them  to  know  their  un 
seen  Friend.  Around  the  camp-fire,  under 
the  starry  dome,  or  on  the  sunny  plain, 
whenever  he  taught  them  they  listened,  their 
faces  losing  the  wild,  half-animal  look  of  the 
uncivilized,  and  taking  on  the  hidden  long 
ing  that  all  mortals  have  in  common.  He 
saw  the  humanity  in  them  looking  wistfully 
through  their  great  eyes,  and  gave  himself 
to  teach  them. 

Sometimes  as  he  talked  he  would  lift  his 
face  to  the  sky,  and  close  his  eyes ;  and  they 
would  listen  with  awe  as  he  spoke  to  his 
Father  in  heaven.  They  watched  him  at 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  looked  up  as  if  they  half  expected  to  see 
the  Unseen  World  open  before  their  wonder 
ing  gaze  ;  but  gradually  the  spirit  of  devotion 
claimed  them,  and  they  closed  their  eyes  with 
him,  and  who  shall  say  if  the  savage  prayers 
within  their  breasts  were  not  more  acceptable 
to  the  Father  than  many  a  wordy  petition 
put  up  in  the  temples  of  civilization  ? 

Seven  days  and  nights  he  abode  with 
them,  and  they  fain  would  have  claimed 
him  for  their  own,  and  begged  him  to  give 
up  all  other  places  and  live  there  always. 
They  would  give  him  of  their  best  He 
would  not  need  to  work,  for  they  would  givt 
him  his  portion,  and  make  him  a  home  as  he 
should  direct  them.  In  short,  they  would  en 
shrine  him  in  their  hearts  as  a  kind  of  under- 
god,  representing  to  their  childish  minds  the 
true  and  Only  One,  the  knowledge  of  whom 
he  had  brought  to  them. 

But  he  told  them  of  his  work,  of  why  he 
must  go  back  to  it,  and  sadly  they  prepared 
to  bid  him  good-bye  with  many  an  invitation 
for  return.  In  going  down  the  cliff,  where 
he  had  gone  with  them  many  a  time  before, 
he  turned  to  wave  another  farewell  to  a  little 
child  who  had  been  his  special  pet,  and  turn 
ing,  slipped,  and  wrenched  his  ankle  so  badly 
that  he  could  not  move  on. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS     257 

They  carried  him  up  to  their  home  again, 
half  sorrowful,  but  wholly  triumphant.  He 
was  theirs  for  a  little  longer ;  and  there  were 
more  stories  he  could  tell.  The  Book  of 
Heaven  was  a  large  one,  and  they  wanted  tc 
hear  it  all.  They  spread  his  couch  of  their 
best,  and  wearied  themselves  to  supply  his 
necessity  with  all  that  their  ignorance  im 
agined  he  needed,  and  then  they  sat  at  his 
feet  and  listened.  The  sprain  was  a  trouble 
some  one  and  painful,  and  it  yielded  to 
treatment  but  slowly ;  meanwhile  the  mes 
senger  arrived  with  the  telegram  from  the 
East. 

They  gathered  about  it,  that  sheet  of 
yellow  paper  with  its  mysterious  scratches 
upon  it,  which  told  such  volumes  to  their 
friend,  but  gave  no  semblance  to  sign  lan 
guage  of  anything  in  heaven  above  or  earth 
beneath.  They  looked  with  awe  upon  their 
friend  as  they  saw  the  anguish  in  his  counte 
nance.  His  mother  was  dead !  This  man 
who  had  loved  her,  and  had  left  her  to  bring 
them  news  of  salvation,  was  suffering.  It 
was  one  more  bond  between  them,  one  more 
tie  of  common  humanity.  And  yet  he  could 
look  up  and  smile,  and  still  speak  to  the 
invisible  Father !  They  saw  his  face  as  it 
were  the  face  of  an  angel  with  the  light  ol 


258    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  comfort  of  Christ  upon  it;  and  when  he 
read  to  them  and  tried  to  make  them  un 
derstand  the  majestic  words:  "O  death, 
where  is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  thy 
victory  ? "  they  sat  and  looked  afar  off,  and 
thought  of  the  ones  that  they  had  lost.  This 
man  said  they  would  all  live  again.  His 
mother  would  live ;  the  chief  they  had  lost 
last  year,  the  bravest  and  youngest  chief 
of  all  their  tribe,  he  would  live  too  ;  their 
little  children  would  live ;  all  they  had  lost 
would  live  again. 

So,  when  he  would  most  have  wished  to 
be  alone  with  his  God  and  his  sorrow,  he 
must  needs  lay  aside  his  own  bitter  grief,  and 
bring  these  childish  people  consolation  for 
their  griefs,  and  in  doing  so  the  comfort 
came  to  him  also.  For  somehow,  looking 
into  their  longing  faces,  and  seeing  their 
utter  need,  and  how  eagerly  they  hung  upon 
his  words,  he  came  to  feel  the  presence  of 
the  Comforter  standing  by  his  side  in  the 
dark  cave  shadows,  whispering  to  his  heart 
sweet  words  that  he  long  had  known  but 
had  not  fully  comprehended  because  his  need 
for  them  had  never  come  before.  Somehow 
time  and  things  of  earth  receded,  and  only 
heaven  and  immortal  souls  mattered.  He 
lifted  above  his  own  loss  and  into  the 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS      259 

joy  of  the  inheritance  of  the  servant  of  the 
Lord. 

But  the  time  had  come,  all  too  soon  for  his 
hosts,  when  he  was  able  to  go  on  his  way  ; 
and  most  anxious  he  was  to  be  started,  long 
ing  for  further  news  of  the  dear  one  who  was 
gone  from  him.  They  followed  him  in  sor 
rowful  procession  far  into  the  plain  to  see  him 
on  his  way,  and  then  returned  to  their  mesa 
and  their  cliff  home  to  talk  of  it  all  and  wonder. 

Alone  upon  the  desert  at  last,  the  three 
great  mesas  like  fingers  of  a  giant  hand 
stretching  cloudily  behind  him ;  the  purpling 
mountains  in  the  distance ;  the  sunlight 
shining  vividly  down  over  all  the  bright 
sands ;  the  full  sense  of  his  loss  came  at  last 
upon  him,  and  his  spirit  was  bowed  with  the 
weight  of  it.  The  vision  of  the  Mount  was 
passed,  and  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  life 
was  upon  him.  It  came  to  him  what  it 
would  be  to  have  no  more  of  his  mother's 
letters  to  cheer  his  loneliness  ;  no  thought  of 
her  at  home  thinking  of  him ;  no  looking 
forward  to  another  home-coming. 

As  he  rode  he  saw  none  of  the  changing 
landscape   by  the  way,  but  only  the  Gran 
ville   orchard  with   its   showering  pink  and 
white,  and  his  mother  lying  happily  beside 
Uim    on   the  strawberry  bank   picking  the 


26o    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

sweet  vivid  berries,  and  smiling  back  to  him 
as  if  she  had  been  a  girl.  He  was  glad,  glad 
he  had  that  memory  of  her.  And  she  had 
seemed  so  well,  so  very  well  He  had  been 
thinking  that  perhaps  when  there  was  hope 
of  building  a  little  addition  to  his  shack  and 
making  a  possible  place  of  comfort  for  her, 
that  he  might  venture  to  propose  that  she 
come  out  to  him  and  stay.  It  was  a  wish 
that  had  been  growing,  growing  in  his 
lonely  heart  since  that  visit  home  when  it 
seemed  as  if  he  could  not  tear  himself  away 
from  her  and  go  back ;  and  yet  knew  that 
he  could  not  stay — would  not  want  to  stay, 
because  of  his  beloved  work.  And  now  it 
was  over  forever,  his  dream!  She  would 
never  come  to  cheer  his  home,  and  he  would 
always  have  to  live  a  lonely  life — for  he 
knew  in  his  heart  there  was  only  one  girl  in 
the  whole  world  he  would  want  to  ask  to 
come,  and  her  he  might  not,  must  not  ask. 

As  endless  and  as  desolate  as  his  desert 
his  future  lay  stretched  out  before  his  mind. 
For  the  time  his  beloved  work  and  the  joy  of 
service  was  sunk  out  of  sight,  and  he  saw 
only  himself,  alone,  forsaken  of  all  love.,  walk 
ing  his  sorrowful  way  apart ;  and  ther6 
surged  over  him  a  great  and  deadly  weak 
ness  as  of  a  spirit  in  despair. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS      261 

In  this  mind  he  lay  down  to  rest  in  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  about  the  noon  hour, 
too  weary  in  spirit  and  exhausted  in  body 
to  go  further  without  a  sleep.  The  faithful 
Billy  dozed  and  munched  his  portion  not  far 
away ;  and  high  overhead  a  great  eagle 
soared  high  and  far,  adding  to  the  wide  des- 
olateness  of  the  scene.  Here  he  was  alone 
at  last  for  the  first  time  with  his  grief,  and  for 
a  while  it  had  its  way,  and  he  faced  it ;  en 
tering  into  his  Gethsemane  with  bowed  spirit 
and  seeing  nothing  but  blackness  all  about 
him.  It  was  so,  worn  with  the  anguish  of 
his  spirit,  that  he  fell  asleep. 

While  he  slept  there  came  to  him  peace  ;  a 
to  ream  of  his  mother,  smiling,  well,  and  walk 
ing  with  a  light  free  step  as  he  remembered  her 
when  he  was  a  little  boy  ;  and  by  her  side  the 
girl  he  loved.  How  strange,  and  wonderful, 
that  these  two  should  come  to  him  and  bring 
mm  rest !  And  then,  as  he  lay  still  dream 
ing,  they  smiled  at  him  and  passed  on,  hand 
in  hand,  the  girl  turning  and  waving  her 
hand  as  if  she  meant  to  return  ;  and  presently 
they  passed  beyond  his  sight.  Then  One 
stood  by  him,  somewhere  within  the  shelter 
of  the  rock  under  which  he  lay,  and  spoke ; 
and  the  Voice  thrilled  his  soul  as  it  had  neve* 
thrilled  in  life  before : 


a62    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Lo,  /  am  with  you  alwayy  even  unto  the  end  of 
the  world." 

The  Peace  of  that  Invisible  Presence  de 
scended  upon  him  in  full  measure,  and  when 
he  awoke  he  found  himself  repeating :  "  The 
peace  which  passeth  understanding  1 "  and 
realizing  that  for  the  first  time  he  knew  what 
the  words  meant. 

Some  time  he  lay  quietly  like  a  child  who 
had  been  comforted  and  cared  for,  wondering 
at  the  burden  which  had  been  lifted,  glory 
ing  in  the  peace  that  had  come  in  its  place; 
rejoicing  in  the  Presence  that  he  felt  would 
be  with  him  always,  and  make  it  possible  for 
him  to  bear  the  loneliness. 

At  last  he  turned  his  head  to  see  if  Billy 
were  far  away,  and  was  startled  to  see  the 
shadow  of  the  rock,  under  which  he  lay, 
spread  out  upon  the  sand  before  him,  the 
semblance  of  a  perfect  mighty  cross.  For  so 
the  jutting  uneven  arms  of  the  rock  and  the 
position  of  the  sun  arranged  the  shadows  be 
fore  him.  "  The  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in 
a  weary  land."  The  words  came  to  his 
memory,  and  it  seemed  to  be  his  mother's 
voice  repeating  them  as  she  used  to  do  on 
Sabbath  evenings  when  they  sat  together  in 
the  twilight  before  his  bedtime.  A  weary 
land  1  It  was  a  weary  land  now,  and  his  sou/ 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS      263 

had  been  parched  with  the  heat  and  loneli 
ness.  He  had  needed  the  rock  as  he  had 
never  needed  it  before,  and  the  Rock,  Christ 
Jesus,  had  become  a  rest  and  a  peace  to  his 
soul.  But  there  it  lay  spread  out  upon  the 
sand  beside  him,  and  it  was  the  way  of  the 
cross  ;  the  Christ  way  was  always  the  way  of 
the  cross.  But  what  was  the  song  they  sang  at 
that  great  meeting  he  attended  in  New  York  ? 
"  The  way  of  the  cross  leads  home."  Ah, 
that  was  it.  Some  day  it  would  lead  him 
home,  but  now  it  was  the  way  of  the  cross 
and  he  must  take  it  with  courage,  and  al 
ways  with  that  unseen  but  close  Companion 
who  had  promised  to  be  with  him  even  to  the 
end  of  the  world. 

Well,  he  would  rise  up  at  once,  strong  ir? 
that  blessed  companionship.  Cheerfully  he 
made  his  preparations  for  starting,  and  now 
he  turned  Billy's  head  a  trifle  to  the  south, 
for  he  decided  to  stop  over  night  with  his 
colleague. 

When  his  grief  and  loneliness  were  fresh 
upon  him  it  had  seemed  that  he  could  not 
bear  this  visit.  But  since  peace  had  come  to 
his  soul  he  changed  his  course  to  take  in  the 
other  mission,  which  was  really  on  his  way, 
only  that  he  had  purposely  avoided  it. 

They  made  him  welcome,  those  two  who 


264    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  made  a  little  bit  of  earthly  paradise  out 
of  their  desert  shack;  and  they  compelled 
him  to  stay  with  them  and  rest  three  days, 
for  he  was  more  worn  with  the  journey  and 
his  recent  pain  and  sorrow  than  he  realized. 
They  comforted  him  with  their  loving  sym 
pathy  and  gladdened  his  soul  with  the  sight 
of  their  own  joy,  albeit  it  gave  him  a  feeling 
of  being  set  apart  from  them.  He  started  in 
the  early  dawn  of  the  day  when  the  morning 
star  was  yet  visible,  and  as  he  rode  through 
the  beryl  air  of  the  dawning  hour  he  was  up 
lifted  from  his  sadness  by  a  sense  of  the  near 
presence  of  Christ. 

He  took  his  way  slowly,  purposely  turning 
aside  three  times  from  the  trail  to  call  at 
the  hogans  of  some  of  his  parishioners ;  for 
he  dreaded  the  home-coming  as  one  dreads 
a  blow  that  is  inevitable.  His  mother's  pic 
ture  awaited  him  in  his  own  room,  smiling 
down  upon  his  possessions  with  that  dear 
look  upon  her  face,  and  to  look  at  it  for  the 
first  time  kncwing  that  she  was  gone  from 
earth  forever  was  an  experience  from  which 
he  shrank  inexpressibly.  Thus  he  gave  him 
self  more  time,  knowing  that  it  was  better  tc  go 
calmly,  turning  his  mind  back  to  his  work,  and 
doing  what  she  would  have  liked  him  to  do. 

He  camped  that  night  under  the  sheltered 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS      265 

ledge  where  he  and  Hazel  had  been,  and  as 
he  lay  down  to  sleep  he  repeated  the  psalm 
they  had  read  together  that  night,  and  felt  a 
sense  of  the  comfort  of  abiding  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty. 

In  visions  of  the  night  he  saw  the  girPs 
face  once  more,  and  she  smiled  upon  him 
with  that  glad  welcoming  look,  as  though 
she  had  come  to  be  with  him  always.  She 
did  not  say  anything  in  the  dream,  but  just 
put  out  her  hands  to  him  with  a  motion  of 
Surrender. 

The  vision  faded  as  he  opened  his  eyes, 
yet  so  real  had  it  been  that  it  remained  with 
him  and  thrilled  him  with  the  wonder  of  her 
look  all  day.  He  began  to  ponder  whether 
he  had  been  right  in  persistently  putting  her 
out  of  his  life  as  he  had  done.  Bits  of  her 
own  sentences  came  to  him  with  new  mean 
ing  and  he  wondered  after  all  if  he  had  not 
been  a  fool.  Perhaps  he  might  have  won 
her.  Perhaps  God  had  really  sent  her  to  him 
to  be  his  life  companion,  and  he  had  been  too 
blind  to  understand. 

He  put  the  idea  from  him  many  times  with 
a  sigh  as  he  mended  the  fire  and  prepared 
his  simple  meal,  yet  always  her  face  lingered 
sweetly  in  his  thoughts,  like  balm  upon  his 
saddened  spirit. 


266    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Billy  was  headed  towards  home  that  morn 
ing,  and  seemed  eager  to  get  on.  He  had 
not  understood  his  master  these  sad  days. 
Something  had  come  over  his  spirits.  The 
little  horse  neighed  cheerfully  and  started  on 
his  way  with  willing  gait.  However  lonely 
the  master  might  be,  home  was  good,  with 
one's  own  stall  and  manger ;  and  who  might 
tell  but  some  presentiment  told  Billy  that  the 
princess  was  awaiting  them  ? 

The  missionary  endeavoured  to  keep  his 
thoughts  upon  his  work  and  plans  for  the 
immediate  future,  but  try  as  he  would  the 
face  of  the  girl  kept  smiling  in  between ;  and 
all  the  beauties  of  the  way  combined  to  bring 
back  the  ride  he  had  taken  with  her ;  until 
finally  he  let  his  fancy  dwell  upon  her  with 
pleasant  thoughts  of  how  it  would  be  if  she 
were  his,  and  waiting  for  him  at  the  end  of 
his  journey  ;  or  better  still,  riding  beside  him 
at  this  moment,  bearing  him  sweet  converse 
on  the  way. 

The  little  shack  stood  silent,  familiar,  in  the 
setting  sunlight,  as  he  rode  up  to  the  door^ 
and  gravely  arranged  for  Billy's  comfort, 
then  with  his  upward  look  for  comfort  he 
went  towards  his  lonely  home  and  open- 
Ing  the  door  stood  wondering  upon  the 
threshold  1 


XVI 

THE  LETTER 

IT  was  only  an  instant  before  she  opened 
her  eyes,  for  that  subconscious  state, 
that  warns  even  in  sleep  of  things  that 
are  going  on  outside  the  world  of  slumber, 
told  her  there  was  another  soul  present. 

She  awakened  suddenly  and  looked  up  at 
him,  the  rosiness  of  sleep  upon  her  cheeks 
and  the  dewiness  of  it  upon  her  eyelids.  She 
looked  most  adorable  with  the  long  red  slant 
of  sunset  from  the  open  door  at  her  feet  and 
the  wonder  of  his  coming  in  her  face.  Their 
eyes  met,  and  told  the  story,  before  brain  had 
time  to  give  warning  of  danger  and  need  of 
self-control. 

"  Oh,  my  darling !  "  the  man  said  and  took 
a  step  towards  her,  his  arms  outstretched  as  if 
he  would  clasp  her,  yet  daring  hardly  to  be 
lieve  that  it  was  really  herself  in  the  flesh. 

"  My  darling !  Have  you  really  come  to 
me  ?  "  He  breathed  the  question  as  though 
its  answer  meant  life  or  death  to  him. 

She  arose  and  stood  before  him,  trembling 
267 


268    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

with  joy,  abashed  now  that  she  was  in  his 
presence,  in  his  home,  unbidden.  Her  tongue 
seemed  tied.  She  had  no  word  with  which 
to  explain.  But  because  he  saw  the  love  in 
her  eyes  and  because  his  own  need  of  her 
was  great,  he  became  bolder,  and  coming 
closer  he  began  to  tell  her  earnestly  how  he 
had  longed  and  prayed  that  God  would  make 
a  way  for  him  to  find  her  again  ;  how  he 
had  fancied  her  here  in  this  room,  his  own 
dear  companion — his  wife  ! 

He  breathed  the  word  tenderly,  reverently 
and  she  felt  the  blessing  and  the  wonder  of 
the  love  of  this  great  simple-hearted  man. 

Then  because  he  saw  his  answer  in  her 
eyes,  he  came  near  and  took  her  reverently 
in  his  arms,  laid  his  lips  upon  hers,  and  thus 
they  stood  for  a  moment  together,  knowing 
that  after  all  the  sorrow,  the  longing,  the 
separation,  each  had  come  into  his  own. 

It  was  some  time  before  Hazel  could  get 
opportunity  to  explain  how  she  came  all  un 
knowingly  to  be  in  his  house,  and  even 
then  he  could  not  understand  what  joyful 
circumstance  had  set  her  face  fortward  and 
dropped  her  at  his  door.  So  she  had  to  go 
back  to  the  letter,  the  letter  which  was  the 
cause  of  it  all,  and  yet  for  the  moment  had 
been  forgotten.  She  brought  it  forth  now, 


THE  LETTER  269 

and  his  face,  all  tender  with  the  joy  of  her 
presence,  grew  almost  glorified  when  he 
knew  that  it  was  she  who  had  been  his 
mother's  tender  nurse  and  beloved  friend 
through  the  last  days  of  her  life. 

With  clasped  hands  they  talked  together 
of  his  mother.  Hazel  told  him  all :  how  she 
had  come  upon  her  that  summer's  day,  and 
her  heart  had  yearned  to  know  her  for  his 
sake ;  and  how  she  had  gone  back  again, 
and^yet  again  ;  all  the  story  of  her  own  strug 
gles  for  a  better  life.  When  she  told  of  her 
cooking  lessons  he  kissed  the  little  white 
hands  he  held,  and  when  she  spoke  of  her 
hospital  work  he  touched  his  lips  to  eyes  and 
brow  in  reverent  worshipfulness. 

"And  you  did  all  that  because ?"  he 

asked  and  looked  deep  into  her  eyes,  de 
manding  hungrily  his  answer. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  be  worthy  of  your 
love  ! "  she  breathed  softly,  her  eyes  down' 
drooped,  her  face  rosy  with  her  confession. 

"  Oh,  my  darling ! "  he  said,  and  clasped 
her  close  once  more.  Almost  the  letter  itself 
was  forgotten,  until  it  slipped  softly  to  the 
floor  and  called  attention  to  itself.  There 
was  really  after  all  no  need  for  the  letter.  It 
had  done  its  intended  work  without  being 
read.  But  they  read  it  together,  his  arm 


270    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

about  her  shoulders,  and  their  heads  close, 
each  feeling  the  need  of  the  comforting  love 
of  the  other  because  of  the  bereavement  each 
had  suffered. 

And  thus  they  read : 

"  MY  DEAR  SON  :J 

"  I  am  writing  this  letter  in  what  I  be 
lieve  to  be  the  last  few  days  of  my  life.  Long 
ago  I  made  our  dear  doctor  tell  me  just  what 
would  be  the  signs  that  preceded  the  proba 
ble  culmination  of  my  disease.  He  knew  I 
would  be  happier  so,  for  I  had  some  things  I 
wished  to  accomplish  before  I  went  away. 
I  did  not  tell  you,  dear  son,  because  I  knew 
it  could  but  distress  you  and  turn  your 
thoughts  away  from  the  work  to  which  you 
belong.  I  knew  when  you  came  home  to  me 
for  that  dear  last  visit  that  I  had  only  a  little 
while  longer  left  here,  and  I  need  not  tell  you 
what  those  blessed  days  of  your  stay  were  to 
me.  You  know  without  my  telling.  You 
perhaps  will  blame  yourself  that  you  did  not 
see  how  near  the  end  it  was  and  stay  beside 
me  ;  but  John,  beloved,  I  would  not  have 
been  happy  to  have  had  it  so.  It  would  have 
brought  before  you  with  intensity  the  parting 
side  of  death,  and  this  I  wished  to  avoid.  I 
want  you  to  think  of  me  as  gone  to  be  with 


THE  LETTER  271 

Jesus  and  with  your  dear  father.  Besides,  I 
wanted  the  pleasure  of  giving  you  back  again 
to  your  work  before  I  went  away. 

"  It  was  because  I  knew  the  end  was  near 
that  I  dared  do  a  lot  of  things  that  I  would 
have  been  careful  about  otherwise.  It  was  in 
the  strength  of  the  happiness  of  your  presence 
that  I  forced  myself  to  walk  again  that  you 
might  remember  your  mother  once  more  on 
her  feet.  Remember  now  when  you  are  read 
ing  this  I  shall  be  walking  the  golden  streets 
with  as  strong  and  free  a  gait  as  you  walk 
your  desert,  dear.  So  don't  regret  anything 
of  the  good  time  we  had,  nor  wish  you  had 
stayed  longer.  It  was  perfect,  and  the  good 
times  are  not  over  for  us.  We  shall  have 
them  again  on  the  other  side  some  day  when 
there  are  no  more  partings  forever. 

"  But  there  is  just  one  thing  that  has  troub 
led  me  ever  since  you  first  went  away,  and 
that  is  that  you  are  alone.  God  knew  it  was 
not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  and  He  has  a 
helpmeet  for  my  boy  somewhere  in  the  world, 
I  am  sure.  I  would  be  glad  if  I  might  go 
knowing  that  you  had  found  her  and  that  she 
loved  you  as  I  loved  your  father  when  I  mar 
ried  him.  I  have  never  talked  much  about 
these  things  to  you  because  I  do  not  think 
mothers  should  try  to  influence  their  children 


272    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  marry  until  God  sends  the  right  one,  and 
then  it  is  not  the  mother  who  should  be  the 
judge,  of  course.  But  once  I  spoke  to  you 
in  a  letter.  You  remember  ?  It  was  after  I 
had  met  a  sweet  girl  whose  life  seemed  so 
fitted  to  belong  to  yours.  You  opened  your 
heart  to  me  then  and  told  me  you  had  found 
the  one  you  loved  and  would  never  love 
another — but  she  was  not  for  you.  My  heart 
ached  for  you,  laddie,  and  I  prayed  much  for 
you  then,  for  it  was  a  sore  trial  to  come  to  my 
boy  away  out  there  alone  with  his  trouble.  I 
had  much  ado  not  to  hate  that  girl  to  whom 
you  had  given  your  love,  and  not  to  fancy 
her  a  most  disagreeable  creature  with  airs, 
and  no  sense,  not  to  recognize  the  man  in  my 
son,  and  not  to  know  his  beautiful  soul  and 
the  worth  of  his  love.  But  then  I  thought 
perhaps  she  couldn't  help  it,  poor  child,  that 
she  didn't  know  enough  to  appreciate  you  ; 
and  likely  it  was  God's  good  leading  that 
kept  you  from  her.  But  I  have  kept  hoping 
that  some  time  He  would  bring  you  to  love 
another  who  was  more  worthy  than  she  could 
have  been. 

"Dear,  you  have  never  said  anything 
more  about  that  girl,  and  I  hope  you  have 
forgotten  her,  though  sometimes  when  you 
were  at  home  I  noticed  that  deep,  far-away 


THE  LETTER  273 

look  in  your  eyes,  and  a  sadness  about  your 
lips  that  made  me  tremble  lest  her  memory 
was  just  as  bright  as  ever.  I  have  wanted 
you  to  know  the  sweet  girl  Hazel  Radcliffe 
who  has  been  my  dear  friend  and  almost 
daughter — for  no  daughter  could  have  been 
dearer  than  she  has  been  to  me,  and  I  believe 
she  loves  me  too  as  I  love  her.  If  you  had 
been  nearer  I  would  have  tried  to  bring  you 
two  together,  at  least  for  once,  that  you  might 
judge  for  yourselves ;  but  I  found  out  that 
she  was  shy  as  a  bird  about  meeting  any  one 
— though  she  has  hosts  of  young  men  friends 
in  her  New  York  home — and  that  she  would 
have  run  away  if  you  had  come.  Besides,  I 
could  not  have  given  you  any  reason  but  the 
truth  for  sending  for  you,  and  I  knew  God 
would  bring  you  two  together  if  it  was  His 
will.  But  I  could  not  go  happy  from  this 
earth  without  doing  something  towards  help 
ing  you  just  to  see  her  once,  and  so  I  have 
asked  her  to  give  you  this  letter  with  her  own 
hand?  if  possible,  and  she  has  promised  to  do 
so.  You  will  come  home  when  I  am  gone 
and  she  will  have  to  see  you,  and  when  you 
look  on  her  sweet  face  if  you  do  not  feel  as 
your  mother  does  about  her,  it  is  all  right, 
dear  son  ;  only  I  wanted  you  just  to  see  her 
once  because  I  love  her  so  much,  and  because 


274    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

I  love  you.  If  you  could  forget  the  other  and 
love  this  one  it  seems  as  though  I  should  be 
glad  even  in  heaven,  but  if  you  do  not  feel 
that  way  when  you  see  her,  John,  don't  mind 
my  writing  this  letter,  for  it  pleased  me  much 
to  play  this  little  trick  upon  you  before  I 
left ;  and  the  dear  girl  must  never  know — un 
less  indeed  you  love  her — and  then  I  do  not 
care — for  I  know  she  will  forgdve  me  for 
writing  this  silly  letter,  and  love  me  just  the 
same. 

"  Dear  boy,  just  as  we  never  liked  to  say 
good-bye  when  you  went  away  to  college, 
but  only  *  Au  revoir,'  so  there  won't  be  any 
good-bye  now,  only  I  love  you. 

"  YOUR  MOTHER/' 

Hazel  was  weeping  softly  when  they  fin 
ished  the  letter,  and  there  were  tears  in  the 
eyes  of  the  son,  though  they  were  glorified 
by  the  smile  that  shone  upon  the  girl  as  he 
folded  the  letter  and  said  : 

"Wasn't  that  a  mother  for  a  fellow  to 
have  ?  And  could  I  do  anything  else  than 
give  myself  when  she  gave  all  she  had? 
And  to  think  she  picked  out  the  very  one  for 
me  that  I  loved  of  all  the  world,  and  sent  her 
out  to  me  because  I  was  too  set  in  my  way 
to  come  back  after  her.  It  is  just  as  if  my 


THE  LETTER  275 

mother  sent  you  down  as  a  gift  from  heaven 
to  me,  dear ! "  and  their  lips  met  once  more 
in  deep  love  and  understanding. 

The  sun  was  almost  setting  now,  and  sud 
denly  the  two  became  aware  that  night  was 
coming  on.  The  Indian  would  be  returning 
and  they  must  plan  what  to  do. 

Brownleigh  rose  and  went  to  the  door  to 
see  if  the  Indian  were  in  sight.  He  was 
thinking  hard  and  fast.  Then  he  came  back 
and  stood  before  the  girl. 

"  Dear !  "  he  said,  and  the  tone  of  his  voice 
brought  the  quick  colour  to  her  cheeks  ;  it 
was  so  wonderful,  so  disconcerting  to  be 
looked  at  and  spoken  to  in  that  way.  She 
caught  her  breath  and  wondered  if  it  were 
not  a  dream  after  all.  "  Dear,"  another  of 
those  deep,  searching  looks,  "  this  is  a  big, 
primitive  country  and  we  do  things  in  a  most 
summary  way  out  here  sometimes.  You  must 
tell  me  if  I  go  too  fast ;  but  could — would 
you — do  you  think  you  love  me  enough  to 
marry  me  at  once — to-night  ?  w 

"Oh!"  she  breathed,  lifting  her  happy 
eyes.  "  It  would  be  beautiful  to  never  have 
to  leave  you  again — but— you  hardly  know 
me.  I  am  not  fitted,  you  know.  You  are  a 
great,  wonderful  missionary,  and  I — I  am 
only  a  foolish  girl  who  has  fallen  in  love  with 


276    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

you  and  can't  ever  be  happy  again  without 
you." 

She  buried  her  face  in  the  arm  of  the  chaif 
and  cried  happy,  shamed  tears,  and  he  gath 
ered  her  up  in  his  arms  and  comforted  her, 
his  face  shining  with  a  glorified  expression. 

"  Dear,"  he  said  when  he  could  speak 
again,  "dear,  don't  you  know  that  is  all  I 
want  ?  And  don't  ever  talk  that  way  again 
about  me.  I  am  no  saint,  as  you'll  very  well 
find  out,  but  I'll  promise  to  love  and  cherish 
you  as  long  as  we  both  shall  live.  Will  you 
marry  me  to-night  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  little  room  broken 
only  by  the  low  crackling  of  the  dying  fire. 

She  lifted  shy  glad  eyes  to  his,  and  then 
came  and  laid  her  two  hands  in  his. 

"  If  you  are  quite  sure  you  want  me,"  she 
breathed  softly. 

The  rapture  of  his  face  and  the  tenderness 
of  his  arms  assured  her  on  that  point. 

"There  is  just  one  great  regret  I  have," 
said  the  young  man,  lifting  his  eyes  towards 
his  mother's  picture.  "  If  she  only  could 
have  known  it  was  you  that  I  loved.  Why 
didn't  I  tell  her  your  name  ?  But  then  — 
Why,  my  dear,  I  didn't  know  your  name 
Do  you  realize  that?  I  haven't  known  you* 
name  until  now." 


THE  LETTER  277 

"  I  certainly  did  realize  it,"  said  Hazel  with 
rosy  cheeks.  "  It  used  to  hurt  dreadfully 
sometimes  to  think  that  even  if  you  wanted 
to  find  me  you  wouldn't  know  how  to  go 
about  it.'1 

"You  dear!  Did  you  care  so  much?" 
His  voice  was  deep  and  tender  and  his  eyes 
were  upon  her. 

"  So  much  !  "  she  breathed  softly. 

But  the  splash  of  red  light  on  the  floor  at 
their  feet  warned  them  of  the  lateness  of  the 
hour  and  they  turned  to  the  immediate  busi 
ness  of  the  moment. 

"  It  is  wonderful  that  things  are  just  as 
they  are  to-night,"  said  Brownleigh  in  his 
full,  joyous  tones.  "  It  certainly  seems  provi 
dential.  Bishop  Vail,  my  father's  old  college 
chum,  has  been  travelling  through  the  West 
on  missionary  work  for  his  church,  and  he  is 
now  at  the  stopping  place  where  you  spent 
last  night.  He  leaves  on  the  midnight  train 
to-night,  but  we  can  get  there  long  before 
that  time,  and  he  will  marry  us.  There  is 
no  one  I  would  rather  have  had,  though  the 
choice  should  have  been  yours.  Are  you 
going  to  mind  very  much  being  married  in 
this  brief  and  primitive  manner  ?  " 

"  If  I  minded  those  things  I  should  not  be 
worthy  of  your  love,"  said  Hazel  softly 


278    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

"No,  I  don't  mind  in  the  least.  Only  I've 
really  nothing  along  to  get  married  in — 
nothing  suitable  for  a  wedding  gown.  You 
won't  be  able  to  remember  me  in  bridal  at 
tire — and  there  won't  be  even  Amelia  Ellen 
for  bridesmaid."  She  smiled  at  him  mis 
chievously. 

"  You  darling ! "  he  said  laying  his  lips 
upon  hers  again.  "  You  need  no  bridal  at 
tire  to  make  you  the  sweetest  bride  that  ever 
came  to  Arizona,  and  I  shall  always  remem 
ber  you  as  you  are  now,  as  the  most  beautiful 
sight  my  eyes  ever  saw.  If  there  was  time 
to  get  word  to  some  of  my  colleagues  off  at 
their  stations  we  should  have  a  wedding  re 
ception  that  would  outrival  your  New  York 
affairs  so  far  as  enthusiasm  and  genuine 
hearty  good  will  is  concerned,  but  they  are 
all  from  forty  to  a  hundred  miles  away  from 
here  and  it  will  be  impossible.  Are  you  sure 
you  are  not  too  tired  to  ride  back  to  the 
stopping  place  to-night  ?  "  He  looked  at  her 
anxiously.  "  We  will  hitch  Billy  to  the  wagon, 
and  the  seat  has  good  springs.  I  will  put  in 
plenty  of  cushions  and  you  can  rest  on  the 
way,  and  we  will  not  attempt  to  come  back 
to-night.  It  would  be  too  much  for  you." 
She  began  to  protest  but  he  went  on : 
"  No,  dear,  I  don't  mean  we'll  stay  in  that 


THE  LETTER  279 

iktle  hole  where  you  spent  last  night  That 
vould  be  awful  1  But  what  would  you  say  to 
camping  in  the  same  spot  where  we  had  our 
last  talk?  I  have  been  there  many  times 
since  and  often  spend  the  night  there  because 
of  its  sweet  association  with  you.  It  is  not 
far,  you  know,  from  the  railroad — a  matter  o* 
a  few  minutes'  ride — and  there  is  good  water, 
We  can  carry  my  little  tent  and  trappings, 
and  then  take  as  much  of  a  wedding  trip  after 
wards  as  you  feel  you  have  strength  for  be 
fore  we  return,  though  we  shall  have  the  rest 
of  our  lives  to  make  one  dear  long  wedding 
trip  of,  I  hope.  Will  that  plan  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  beautiful,"  said  Hazel  with 
shining  eyes. 

"Very  well,  then.  I  will  get  everything 
ready  for  our  start  and  you  must  rest  until  I 
call  you."  With  that  he  stooped  and  before 
she  realized  what  he  was  doing  gently  lifted 
her  from  her  feet  and  laid  her  down  upon  his 
couch  over  in  the  corner,  spreading  a  many- 
coloured  Indian  blanket  over  her.  Then  he 
deftly  stirred  up  the  fire,  filled  up  the  kettle, 
swung  it  back  over  the  blaze,  and  with  a 
smile  went  out  to  prepare  Billy  and  the 
wagon. 

Hazel  lay  there  looking  about  her  new 
home  with  happy  eyes,  noting  each  little 


280    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

touch  of  refinement  and  beauty  that  showed 
the  character  of  the  man  who  had  lived  his 
life  alone  there  for  three  long  years,  and  won 
dering  if  it  were  really  herself,  the  lonely  little 
struggling  nurse  with  the  bitter  ache  in  her 
heart,  who  was  feeling  so  happy  here  to-day 
— Hazel  Radcliffe,  the  former  New  York  so 
ciety  girl,  rejoicing  ecstatically  because  she 
was  going  to  marry  a  poor  home  missionary 
and  live  in  a  shanty  !  How  her  friends  would 
laugh  and  sneer,  and  how  Aunt  Maria  would 
lift  her  hands  in  horror  and  say  the  family 
was  disgraced !  But  it  did  not  matter  about 
Aunt  Maria.  Poor  Aunt  Maria !  She  had 
never  approved  of  anything  that  Hazel 
wanted  to  do  all  her  life.  As  for  her  brother 
— and  here  her  face  took  on  a  shade  of  sad 
ness — her  brother  was  of  another  world  than 
hers  and  always  had  been.  People  said  he 
was  like  his  dead  mother.  Perhaps  the 
grand  man  of  the  deswt  could  help  her 
brother  to  better  things.  Perhaps  he  would 
come  out  here  to  visit  them  and  catch  a  vi 
sion  of  another  kind  of  life  and  take  a  long 
ing  for  it  as  she  had  done.  He  could  not 
fail  at  least  to  see  the  greatness  of  the  man 
she  had  chosen. 

There  was  great  comfort  to  her  in  this  hour 
to  remember  that  her  father  had  been  inter* 


THE  LETTER  281 

ested  in  her  missionary,  and  had  expressed  a 
hope  that  she  might  meet  him  again  some 
day.  She  thought  her  father  would  have 
been  pleased  at  the  choice  she  had  made,  for 
he  had  surely  seen  the  vision  of  what  was 
really  worth  while  in  life  before  he  died. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  turned  to  the  little 
square  table  over  by  the  cupboard.  What 
if  she  should  set  it  ? 

She  sprang  up  and  suited  the  action  to  the 
thought. 

Almost  as  a  child  might  handle  her  first 
pewter  set  Hazel  took  the  dishes  from  the 
shelves  and  arranged  them  on  the  table. 
They  were  pretty  china  dishes,  with  a  fine 
old  sprigged  pattern  of  delicate  flowers.  She 
recognized  them  as  belonging  to  his  mother's 
set,  and  handled  them  reverently.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  that  mother's  presence  was  with 
her  in  the  room  as  she  prepared  the  table  for 
her  first  meal  with  the  beloved  son. 

She  found  a  large  white  towel  in  the  cup 
board  drawer  that  she  spread  on  the  rough 
little  table,  and  set  the  delicate  dishes  upon 
it :  two  plates,  two  cups  and  saucers,  knives 
and  forks- — two  of  everything !  How  it 
thrilled  her  to  think  that  in  a  little  while  she 
would  belong  here  in  this  dear  house,  a  part 
of  k,  and  that  they  two  would  have  a  right  to 


282    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

sit  together  at  this  table  through  the  years. 
There  might  come  hardships  and  disappoint 
ments — of  course  there  would.  She  was  no 
fool  1  Life  was  full  of  disappointments  for 
everybody,  as  well  as  of  beautiful  surprises  I 
But  come  what  would  she  knew  by  the  thrill 
in  her  heart  that  she  would  never  be  sorry  for 
this  day  in  which  she  had  promised  to  become 
the  wife  of  the  man  of  the  desert,  and  she 
would  always  cherish  the  memory  of  this  her 
first  setting  of  the  little  table,  and  let  it  make 
all  future  settings  of  that  table  a  holy  ordi 
nance. 

She  found  a  can  of  soup  in  the  cupboard, 
and  made  it  hot  in  a  small  saucepan  on  the 
fire,  and  set  forth  on  the  table  crackers  and 
cheese,  a  glass  of  jelly,  a  small  bottle  of 
stuffed  olives  and  some  little  cakes  she  had 
brought  with  her  in  her  suit-case.  She  had 
thought  she  might  need  something  of  the  sort 
when  she  landed  in  Arizona,  for  there  was  no 
telling  but  she  might  have  to  ride  across  the 
desert  to  find  her  missionary ;  and  sure 
enough  that  had  been  the  case. 

It  looked  very  cozy  when  Brownleigh 
came  in  to  say  that  the  wagon  was  ready 
and  he  thought  he  saw  the  Indian  in  the 
dusk  coming  across  the  p.ain,  but  he  stopped 
short  without  speech,  for  here  before  him  was 


THE  LETTER  283 

the  picture  which  his  mind  and  heart  had 
painted  for  him  many  a  time :  this  girl,  the 
one  girl  in  all  the  earth  for  him,  kneeling  be 
side  his  hearth  and  dishing  up  the  steaming 
soup  into  the  hot  dishes,  the  firelight  playing 
on  her  sweet  face  and  golden  hair,  and  every 
line  and  motion  of  her  graceful  body  calling 
for  his  adoration  !  So  he  stood  for  one  long 
minute  and  feasted  his  hungry  eyes  upon  the 
sight,  until  she  turned  and  saw  his  heart  in 
his  eyes,  and  her  own  face  grew  rosy  with  the 
joy  and  the  meaning  of  it  all. 

And  so  they  sat  down  to  their  first  meal  in 
the  little  house  together,  and  then  having 
sent  the  Indian  back  to  the  fort  with  a  mes 
sage,  they  took  their  way  forth  in  the  star 
light  together  to  begin  their  wedding  journey. 


xvn 

DEDICATION 

BILLY  made  good  time  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  out  all  day  on 
parishional  work,  but  he  knew  who  he 
was  hauling,  and  seemed  to  take  deep  satis 
faction  in  having  Hazel  back  again,  for  now 
and  again  he  would  turn  back  towards  the 
wagon  when  they  stopped  for  water  and 
whinny  happily. 

They  reached  the  stopping  place  about 
tiine  o'clock,  and  the  news  that  the  mission 
ary  was  going  to  be  married  spread  like  wild 
fire  among  the  men  and  out  to  the  neighbour 
ing  shacks.  In  no  time  a  small  crowd  had 
collected  about  the  place,  peering  out  of  the 
starlit  darkness. 

Hazel  retired  to  the  forlorn  little  chamber 
where  she  had  spent  the  night  before  and 
rummaged  in  her  trunk  for  bridal  apparel. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  emerged  into  the  long 
dining-room  where  the  table  had  been  hastily 
cleared  and  moved  aside,  and  upon  which 
the  boarders  were  now  seated  in  long  rows, 
watching  the  proceedings  curiously. 
284 


DEDICATION  285 

She  was  dressed  in  a  simple  white  muslin, 
touched  here  and  there  with  exquisite  hand 
embroidery  and  tiny  cobwebby  edges  of  real 
lace.  The  missionary  caught  his  breath  as 
he  saw  her  come  out  to  him,  and  the  rough 
faces  of  the  men  softened  as  they  watched  her. 

The  white-haired  bishop  arose  to  meet  her 
and  welcomed  her  in  a  fatherly  way  he  had, 
and  the  woman  who  kept  the  stopping  place 
came  following  in  Hazel's  wake,  hastily  wip 
ing  her  hands  on  her  apron,  and  casting  it 
behind  her  as  she  entered.  She  had  been 
preparing  an  impromptu  supper  out  of  any 
materials  that  happened  to  be  at  hand,  but 
she  could  not  miss  the  ceremony  if  the  coffee 
did  burn.  Weddings  did  not  come  her  way 
every  day. 

In  the  doorway,  his  stolid  face  shining  in 
the  glare  of  many  candles,  stood  the  Indian 
from  the  fort.  He  had  followed  silently  be 
hind  the  couple  to  witness  the  proceedings, 
well  knowing  he  would  be  forgiven  by  his 
mistress  at  the  fort  when  he  told  his  news. 
The  missionary  was  well  beloved — and  the 
missionary  was  going  to  be  married  ! 

What  would  the  four  hundred  of  her  own 
select  New  York  circle  have  said  could  they 
have  seen  Hazel  Radcliffe  standing  serene,  in 
her  simple  gown,  with  her  undecked  golden 


286    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

hair,  in  the  midst  of  that  motley  company  of 
men,  with  only  three  curious  slatternly  women 
in  the  background  to  keep  her  company,  giv 
ing  herself  away  to  a  man  who  had  dedicated 
his  life  to  work  in  the  desert  ?  But  Hazel's 
happy  heart  was  serenely  unconscious  of  the 
incongruity  of  her  surroundings,  and  she 
answered  with  a  clear  ring  to  her  voice  as  the 
bishop  asked  her  the  questions :  "  I  will." 
She  was  coming  gladly  to  her  new  home. 

It  was  her  own  ring,  the  ring  she  had 
given  him,  that  John  Brownleigh  put  upon 
her  hand  in  token  of  his  loyalty  and  love  for 
her,  the  ring  that  for  a  whole  year  had  lain 
next  his  own  heart  and  comforted  its  loneli 
ness  because  she  had  given  it,  and  now  he 
gave  it  back  because  she  had  given  him  her 
self. 

Graciously  she  placed  her  small  white  hand 
in  the  rough  awkward  ones  of  the  men  who 
came  to  offer  her  congratulations,  half  stum 
bling  over  their  own  feet  in  their  awe  and 
wonder  at  her  beauty.  It  was  to  them  as  if 
an  angel  from  heaven  had  suddenly  dropped 
down  and  condescended  to  walk  their  daily 
path  in  sight  of  them  all. 

Cheerfully  she  swallowed  the  stale  cake 
and  muddy  coffee  that  the  slatternly  landlady 
produced,  and  afterwards,  as  she  was  being 


DEDICATION  287 

helped  to  get  back  into  her  riding  dress,  be 
stowed  upon  her  a  little  lilac  wool  frock  from 
her  trunk  that  the  woman  admired  greatly 
From  that  moment  the  landlady  of  the  stop« 
ping  place  was  a  new  creature.  Missions 
and  missionaries  had  been  nothing  to  her 
through  the  years,  but  she  believed  in  them 
forever  after,  and  donned  her  new  lilac  gown 
in  token  of  her  faith  in  Christianity.  Thus 
Hazel  won  her  first  convert,  who  afterwards 
proved  her  fidelity  in  time  of  great  trial,  and 
showed  that  even  a  lilac  gown  may  be  an  in 
strument  of  good. 

Out  into  the  starlight  together  again  they 
rode,  with  the  blessing  of  the  bishop  upon 
them,  and  the  cheers  of  the  men  still  sound 
ing  in  their  ears. 

"  I  wish  mother  could  have  known/'  said 
the  bridegroom  as  he  drew  his  bride  close 
within  his  arm  and  looked  down  upon  her 
nestling  by  his  side. 

"  Oh,  I  think  she  does  ! "  said  Hazel  as  she 
dropped  a  thankful,  weary  head  against  his 
shoulder.  Then  the  missionary  stooped  and 
gave  his  wife  a  long,  tender  kiss,  and  raising 
his  head  and  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  starlit  sky 
he  said  reverently  : 

"Oh,  my  Father,  I  thank  Thee  for  this 
wonderful  gift.  Make  me  worthy  of  her 


288    THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

Help  her  never  to  regret  that  she  has  come 
to  me." 

Hazel  crept  her  hand  into  his  free  one,  and 
laid  her  lips  upon  his  fingers,  and  prayed  all 
quietly  by  herself  for  gladness.  So  they  rode 
out  to  their  camp  beneath  God's  sky. 

Three  days  later  an  Indian  on  the  way  to 
the  fort  turned  aside  with  a  message  for 
Hazel — a  telegram.  It  read  : 

"  Arrived  safe.  Married  Burley  to  once  so 
I  could  see  to  him.  Do  come  home  right 
away.  Burley  says  come  and  live  with  us. 
Answer  right  away.  I  can't  enjoy  my  new 
home  worrying  about  you. 

"  Yours  respectful, 
"  AMELIA  ELLEN  STOUT  BURLEY." 

With  laughter  and  tears  Hazel  read  the 
telegram  whose  price  must  have  cost  the 
frugal  New  England  conscience  a  twinge, 
and  after  a  moment's  thought  wrote  an  an 
swer  to  send  back  by  the  messenger. 

"  DEAR  AMELIA  ELLEN  :  Love  and  con 
gratulations  for  you  both.  I  was  married  to 
John  Brownleigh  the  night  you  left.  Come 
out  and  see  us  when  your  husband  gets  well, 
and  perhaps  we'll  visit  you  when  we  come 
East.  I  am  very  happy. 

"  HAZEL  RADCLIFFE  BROWNLEIGH,," 


DEDICATION  289 

When  good  Amelia  Ellen  read  that  tele 
gram  she  wiped  her  spectacles  a  second  time 
and  read  it  over  to  see  that  she  had  made  no 
mistake,  and  then  she  set  her  toil-worn  hands 
upon  her  hips  and  surveyed  the  prone  but 
happy  Burley  in  dazed  astonishment,  ejacu 
lating  : 

"  Per  the  land  sake !  Now  did  you  ever  ? 
Fer  the  land !  Was  that  what  she  was  up 
to  all  the  time  ?  I  thought  she  was  wonder 
ful  set  to  go,  and  wonderful  set  to  stay,  but 
I  never  sensed  what  was  up.  Ef  I'd  V 
knowed,  I  suppose  I'd  'a'  stayed  another 
day.  Why  didn't  she  tell  me,  I  wonder  I 
Well,  fer  the  land  sake!" 

And  Burley  murmured  contentedly : 

"  Wai,  I'm  mighty  glad  you  never  knowed, 
Amelia  Ellen!" 


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Amorelle 

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Silver  Wings 

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Lo,  Michael 

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Tomorrow  About  This  Time 

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BLAISE  CENDRARS 
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ELIZABETH  M.  ROBERTS 
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Understood  Betsy 

EDNA  FERBBR 

They  Brought  Their  Women 

American  Beauty 

Show  Boat 

So  Big 

Gmarron 

EMERSON  HOUGH 

The  Covered  Wagon 
North  of  36 
54-40  or  Fight 

JACK  LONDON 

The  Call  of  the  Wild 
The  Sea  Wolf 
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Jerry  of  the  Islands 
Michael,  Brother  of  Jerry 

EUGENE  CUNNINGHAM 

Trail  of  the  Macaw 

Buckaroo 

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Texas  Sheriff 


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